


The Experiment

by Crystal_Stars



Series: The Perseverant [1]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Anger, Chapter 40 is a little different, Curiosity, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fear, Foreshadowing, Guilt, Handplates, Hope vs. Despair, Hugs are in very short supply, Inspired by the stories of Undertale and Handplates, Intrigue, Isolation, It's always cold, Loneliness, Loss of Control, Lots of tears, Magic, POV First Person, Part 1 of 3, Perseverance vs. Determination, Physical Abuse, Power Play, Sibling Love, Some Optimism, Stress, There's no such thing as too many questions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-02-09 05:07:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 40
Words: 87,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12880800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystal_Stars/pseuds/Crystal_Stars
Summary: Krista lives in constant fear. As a victim of her father's abuse and persistent to protect her sister, she has little thought about her future. But when Krista is driven to enter the mountain shrouded by rumors and legends, she finds herself in circumstances beyond anything she ever expected. Forced to become the experiment of a mysterious skeleton scientist, Krista fights to survive and search for an escape. But what does she expect to find once she is free?





	1. The Way Life Is

**Author's Note:**

> So I first had the idea for this story in October of 2016 when I first discovered Zarla's comic Handplates (you can find it here http://zarla-s.tumblr.com/tagged/z-comic or on Zarla's DeviantArt). If you haven't read it yet, I very highly recommend it! While my story does not follow the comic 100%, it is inspired by it and I definitely wanted to give credit. The Experiment focuses on a character I created named Krista who arrives in the lab a couple months before Sans and Papyrus are created. I'd say the biggest difference from the comic is that Gaster's motives for Krista run parallel with his goals for the boys, meaning that her presence in the lab is partially why he creates them. While most of the things that happen to the boys in the comic do occur in my story, they are not described. This is why it is best to read the comic so you know what happens to them while Krista is dealing with her circumstances. The story is in her perspective so there are several behind-the-scenes events that occur without her knowledge. The Experiment also does not follow Undertale's story 100% either, so keep in mind that much of the information presented are my interpretations of both the game and the comic. I've now been working on this story for over a year, and I felt it was time to share it with someone else. I'm not sure how long it will be, as I have ideas that extend very far into the future, but I hope you'll stick around. So let us begin the journey!

We hold onto each other in the dark as he finishes his rant out in the living room. Apparently someone stole all the cash he had when he went to the bar tonight, and now the furniture is taking the punishment of his anger. At least it’s not us this time. My little sister Mable trembles as I hold her close and cover her ears, she doesn’t need to hear every curse word in the book just yet.

  
The room is so cold that we can see our breaths by the faint city lights peering through the window. He didn’t pay the electricity bill again this month, and instead of building a fire in the old fireplace like I suggested, he simply told us that blankets existed for a reason. He also said that he didn’t trust us enough to deal with fire, and that we’d burn down the house the second he left.

  
Of course, that is actually one of his milder insults and I was lucky enough to not get slapped in the face again like when I suggested he stopped drinking. I guess one could say he had the right to do that since he’s my father, and I’m nothing but his stupid fifteen year old daughter who knows nothing about the struggles of real life. Yet, he’s the one throwing all our money away to drink while I’m working as much as possible to earn anything that will help us get by. Mable offered to help by finding some sort of job but I wouldn’t allow it, she’s only ten years old.

  
It’s been like this since our mother died eight years ago from a heart attack. It crushed our father so much that he couldn’t work anymore and he turned to the bottle. Within the past five years he’s become abusive, and I think it has to do with the kind of people he interacts with at the bars. At first he went to the more refined, expensive places in which conversation was easy and conflict was rare. But once the money wasn’t enough for even a cheap drink, he went to the slums and made friends with whoever cared enough to throw him another beer as long as he gave them a good laugh. His “friends” have only ever come to our house once, which definitely didn't end well. Thankfully he’s only spent time with them in the city since then, a small relief for Mable and me.

  
I shiver as he breaks another lamp and I hold Mable closer. She tries to keep her coughs and sniffles as quiet as possible, as if he doesn’t know we’re here. She’s been sick for the past week and she hasn’t gotten any better. Thankfully I get paid tomorrow so I’ll be able to pick up some medicine right after work before he tries to take what little money I have.

  
I wonder if we deserve this, a constant cycle of fear and sadness that has no escape. It’s not like we could just run away and end up in another world where all our problems would be gone. It’s funny; we’ve actually put together a whole duffel bag of supplies for the day we run away, only the biggest question is where we would go when we have nothing.

  
I’ve always thought about going into the mountain and seeing what is deep below ground. There are legends, stories that I remember our mother telling us before bedtime about monsters that used to live on the surface with humans. Only there was a war between the two and the humans eventually won. In their anger, they sealed the monsters underground and no one has seen any since.

  
It sounds like a simple bedtime story, but when my mother told us, it was as if she believed it with all her heart. It’s the one thing that I’ll admit that I think my mother was the tiniest bit on the crazy side for believing. I mean come on really, monsters? But Mable also seems to believe the stories are true, and she constantly asks me to read them to her. I can’t deny such simple requests, especially with our situation, but it seems a bit childish to me.

  
She’s always wanted to go into the mountain to see if the stories are really true. I’ve never told her that our mother took me to the top of it when I was five, about six months after Mable was born. I’m not sure why, but I feel like it’s a part of me that should just never be shared, one peaceful moment with my mother that no one will ever know. She was so sure that there was something down there when all I saw was darkness, but she swore she saw golden flowers at the bottom of the mountain.

  
The mountain is only two miles away from us, just over the hill behind our house and across a beautiful green valley that grows wild flowers in the summer. Our home is on the edge of a huge city called Ebott, named after the mountain. It’s a small house that my mother’s family has owned for generations, according to her, my mother had said that her ancestors were here to record the events that are now nothing more than a local legend. But since we have the actual written documents, she believed that they had to have been true. Of course I wasn’t going to argue with my mother at five, and I think a part of me had believed the stories too.


	2. How Smart Are You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These first few chapters are just meant to establish who Krista is and what her life is like before she ends up Underground.

He finally quiets down and in a few minutes I hear his snores. I sigh and let go of Mable so she can get comfortable. I check my old battery run alarm clock and the time says 3:32 AM. I have to be at work by eight, and I don’t get off until five today, so it looks like another night of only getting four hours of sleep.

I sigh and snuggle down under the warm blankets. Mable and I share what used to be my parents’ king sized mattress, since sleeping in the same bed without my mother hurt him too much, he gave it to us. It’s the one thing that gives me the tiniest bit of optimism that my father will change, he had so much love for my mother that maybe he’ll eventually see her in us once we’re older. I hope he’ll see that I have purple eyes just like she did. That Mable has the same joyful and kind spirit she had. That we both have her soft, dark brown hair that contrasts the bits of blond he has left.

It’s probably just wishful thinking that he’ll see one day as he continues to abuse and neglect us. It’s the unspoken rule of the household that we never interact with him unless he asks for us. It only happens about once or twice a week when he wants to see if we have any money he can use.

Since he ignores us most of the time, I’ve taken the liberty to teach Mable any knowledge education related that I have. Before my mother died, she homeschooled us instead of sending us to one of the many private schools in the city. The two public schools are in the slums and she never wanted us to go there. I guess our father is silently honoring her wishes by never forcing us to go to school. But of course, we have no teacher to tell us what to do.

Thankfully our mother had bought many books for grades one through twelve along with some for college. There is a book for every core subject of every grade, along with some unspecific ones that I think are meant to just give some background knowledge to her stories. Specifically one that explains the history of monsters and another that explains the importance of SOULs for both monsters and humans. I glanced through them, but my father took a sudden interest in them a few months ago and I haven’t seen the books since.

Mable has taken a strong interest in the history books, while I enjoy the sciences, especially biology. We obviously work on the other subjects too, but we always spend a bit more time looking over those books each day. When I have to work, I sometimes slack the amount of reading I should be doing, and then of course Mable does too. But I can’t get mad at her, especially since she doesn’t deserve anymore anger directed at her.

I run through a list of things I need to do in the coming day and the only reminder that sticks out is the cold medicine. Well, maybe I should also get some more fruit, since our pantry is as empty as ever and fruit is the only cheap healthy food I can find. Or should I save that money instead? Maybe if I’m allowed to take leftovers home then I’ll save it. I don’t know, maybe it’s just best to decide in the morning.


	3. Threats Cause Shivers

I jolt awake with Mable shaking my shoulder and whispering my name with a shaking voice.

“Krista? Krista!”

“Huh? What is it?”

“You need to get up.”

I open my eyes and I see that it’s just barely dawn. I’m about to tell her that it’s still too early when I look up and see my father standing in the doorway. He looks as disappointed and angry as ever with a bottle in one hand and a pocket knife in the other. I sit up immediately and speak with a steady and cautious voice.

“Yes sir?”

“You getting paid today?” he asks in his gruff, annoyed voice that’s still hoarse from last night’s yelling.

“Yes sir.”

“I thought so. You just remember that you keep every penny because I need it for something very important tonight,” he says pointing at me with the knife.

“But sir, can I at least buy some medicine for Mable, she’s been sick all week.”

“Is she dying?”

“Well no, but it’s been getting worse.”

He scoffs at that and takes a step into the room.

“I told you to keep every penny, and if you disobey me, there will be severe consequences. You remember your previous punishments right? I’d hoped they’d be enough to get the message through that thick skull of yours.”

I inhale sharply when I think of how horrible the punishments have been. From a whip sliced across my back to him constantly hitting Mable for I don’t even know how long.

He smiles at my clear sign of remembrance and takes a few steps back.

“Now I want you to be back here as soon as possible because I have a surprise for the two of you.”

We both keep our mouths shut and stare at him. A “surprise” can only mean bad news. Maybe he’s finally bringing over his “friends” after so many years. I’m sure they’ll humiliate us and destroy what little we have again. While I strongly believe that’s what he’s planning to do, a small, hopeful part of me wishes that he would take the money and use it to buy us something nice. Maybe some new school books or clothes as a small recognition that we actually mean something to him. But that fantasy quickly diminishes when I see the sparkle in his eyes that hints it will be something he will enjoy and we will hate.

“I’ll get home as fast as I can,” I simply say, hoping that it’s enough to make him leave. He smiles and walks out of the room, slamming the door shut. I quietly sigh and turn to Mable; her wide light green eyes are filled with fear and curiosity. Her fingers fumbling with her necklace like she always does when she’s nervous. It’s a heart-shaped locket that my mother gave her right before she died. Half of it is dark purple while the other half is light green, just like our eyes. Inside it is the only picture of the four of us together, smiling and laughing as if nothing in the world could touch us.

“What kind of surprise could he possibly have?” Mable asks quietly.

“I don’t know, but whatever it is, I’m sure it won’t be pleasant.”

I shiver slightly, not just from the cold, but all the memories of pain and fear we have because of him. I’m suddenly not sure if I should leave Mable alone today.

“Hey, it’ll be fine. We’ve gotten through a lot of bad stuff, who says we’re not strong enough to endure more?” Mable puts her hand on my shoulder, and I realize my eyes are misted with tears.

“I know, but we don’t deserve to endure it. We deserve to have a loving father, a warm home, and maybe, for once, a happy day. Is that too much to ask?”

“No,” she whispers, her eyes misty too. Tears stream down my cheeks and we hold onto each other. “You could ask for more and even that would still not be too much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As long as they have each other, everything will be fine... right? They remind me of another pair of siblings...


	4. My Only Friend

An hour later I head for work after giving Mable a hug and avoiding my father. I work at a small restaurant on the outskirts of the city that makes just enough money to stay in business.

When I step out of the house, I walk to the old pear tree just a few yards away from our house. I lightly pat the worn bark as I remember both the happy and horrifying moments I’ve had holding it. I think of the smiles on my face when Mable, Mother, and I climbed it so many summers ago. We would watch the sunset drift over the valley to rest behind the mountain, waiting for the moon and glittering stars to appear. Then there were the tears that streamed down my cheeks as my father shredded my back on a frigid winter night.

I try not to think about the dark times associated with this tree, since my mother planted it when she was a girl; I want to see it as nothing but another token of her memory. I don’t visit the tree every day, in fear that my father will notice how much it means to me and cut it down. Only, I feel at the same time that he wouldn’t dare touch it, since it was hers.

I shake my head and walk away from the tree, remembering my responsibilities along with his “surprise,” clearly more like a threat trying to hide in plain sight.

My walk takes twenty minutes and my breaths form little clouds of white in the cold January air. I’ve always enjoyed these walks, a short time of my day in which I can be alone with my thoughts. Not that I don’t enjoy talking to Mable, I’d much rather spend the whole day with her instead of working, but at the same time, some independence will help us grow up faster. Not that we act like little kids since I doubt anyone could be too immature after experiencing what we have.

When I reach the restaurant, I can already tell it’s going to be a slow day looking at the one car sitting in front. Plus the empty streets and the frigid chill make it all add up to a day of just sitting around. I hate being here on days like this; it’s just more time wasted leaving Mable alone.

I look up at the dark blue sign that reads _Bonn Appetite_ and I wince. I’ve never liked the name of the restaurant, it will make anyone cringe. The owner thought it was so clever since her name is Bonnie and instead of appétit, she wanted appetite as a play on words. But yeah, it really doesn’t work. I can’t complain though, she was the only one willing to hire me.

I walk in and the restaurant is empty as expected. My coworker Matt runs from the back to the counter and scans the room until his eyes fall on me. His face conveys a strange mixture of disappointment that I’m not a customer, but also happiness that I’m here.

“Finally, I’ve been here alone for the past two hours,” he says with a smile, as his dark brown eyes light up. I’ve always loved his eyes, mostly because brown is the rarest color for anyone to have. Well, except for red which I read in a legend that some people have, but I’ve never seen it.

“Well it’s not my fault you decided to do overtime and offered to work six days a week with as few breaks as possible,” I say in a joking manner.

“It will pay the bills,” he says, casually shrugging as if he couldn’t possibly think of another thing to do.

Matt just turned seventeen two weeks ago and has also been working here since he was fifteen. Since both of his parents make decent salaries that would put them in the upper middle class, it’s hard to believe that they feel there won’t be enough money to send him to college right after his graduation this June. So he made a deal with them that he would work full time until he turned twenty to have enough savings that would get him through four years of college.

I asked him why he would rather work at a small business than a larger company more related to his planned major in economics, and he said that you can learn more from people trying to make it big rather than from those who already have it. I guess it makes sense, although I would think it’d actually be more logical the other way around.

I don’t argue with him though, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Matt, he never changes his mind once he’s focused. I admire his determination to achieve his goals, it makes him unstoppable.

I put my coat in the back and look for any kind of work that would make this place as presentable as possible. But when I look around, I notice there’s nothing to do. The tables are shiny, the floor has been recently vacuumed, and the stoves in the back were warmed up earlier today in preparation for a customer. There’s no point in making any food since I doubt anyone will come in the near future.

I pull out a chair at the table closest to the counter dividing the dining area and the kitchen and lean my head against my hand. How long will it take to end this day?

“Someone’s not chipper this morning,” Matt says with a wink, subtly tossing his short black bangs.

“Am I ever chipper in the morning?” I ask sarcastically since he knows that even when I get a decent amount of sleep, I’m never fully awake for at least an hour.

“No, but you do seem more down than usual,” he says as concern replaces his smile. “Nah, I just didn’t get enough sleep that’s all, I’m fine,” I say with a halfhearted smile. He walks out from behind the counter and sits in the chair across from me. “Is there any trouble at home?” I freeze and try to hide my fear as much as possible. I’ve always been very vague about my home life to him, since I don’t want to lie, but I definitely don’t want to tell the truth either. I’ve only told him the basics: that I have a sister, no mother, a strict father, and my home is far enough that it takes me awhile to get to work.

I’ve told him some details about Mable, but whenever he asks about my father I keep the responses as limited as possible.

“No, there’s no trouble. I just didn’t get much sleep last night since Mable was so excited that I’m getting paid today, as usual. She loves to imagine all the cool things we could buy in the city when I have to remind her that I need to save some of it.”

Matt nods and smiles; his suspicion instantly disappears. As the oldest of three, he knows what it’s like.

“I just need to move around and then I’ll be wide awake,” I say with a smile.

The bell rings at the front door and an older man walks in with a newspaper tucked under his arm.

“Hello, do the two of you work here?” he asks in a soft voice, as if he’s afraid he’ll offend us.

“Looks like you have an excuse to move around,” Matt whispers as he stands up to go into the kitchen.

“Yes sir, we work here,” I say in pleasant voice as I grab my notepad off the counter. As I walk over to him, a family of four enters and I smile in the kindest way possible. This is how most days begin, with nothing at first and then the constant flow of a few customers coming in and out throughout the day. I welcome the work since it distracts me from my thoughts on what Mable might be doing alone.

I always use Mable’s tactics on how to be nice to people without seeming fake. Of course, acting like that comes natural to her while it’s always been a bit more difficult for me. I simply see it as a job that I need to get through while Mable sees it as an art of communication between people in an attempt to make their days better. The thought of her unfaltering kindness in a life of fear and pain always pushes me to look beyond the simple task at hand to see other people that are struggling just as much as we are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While Matt may not seem important now, he will be in the distant future...  
> (Also, his winks are meant to be an endearing sign of friendship, like he's the kind of person who knows way too many inside jokes.)


	5. The "Surprise"

By 5:00, I am wide awake and ready to pass the waitress responsibility to Bonnie. She walks in and surveys the room with a faint smile on her lips, her cyan eyes sparkling. Even though the business is small, it’s _hers_.

She walks across the room and hands me my paycheck with a look of pride on her face. “Congratulations darlin’, you earned a two percent increase on your salary, very good work.”

I smile and thank her, trying not to seem too eager to read the number. It’s not a huge difference, but every little bit helps.

I say goodbye to Matt and he winks at me the way he always does at the end of the day.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, right Krista?”

“Yeah, I’ll be here at nine.”

“You have to promise you’ll go to bed early okay? Buy your sister a stuffed animal or something; it’s always worked on my siblings.”

I laugh and consider buying a kitten one, with giant eyes and a tiny smile. But then my father’s threat comes back with an angry snap and my smile falters for only a second. Thankfully, Matt doesn’t notice and I wave goodbye before walking out into the frigid air.

Once I’m on the outskirts of the city, I sprint towards home as fast as I can with the paycheck clutched to my chest. I shouldn’t be too worried right? This whole ‘surprise’ thing may just be to rattle us, to make sure I never dare to even think about wasting my hard earned money when he could spend it on alcohol.

I ignore the dull pain in my back and push myself to go faster. After the punishment my father gave me four years ago, some of the wounds never healed properly. I can already feel the scar along my shoulder blade tearing apart a little, but it doesn’t matter. My pain has never mattered when it comes to Mable.

When I reach the house I race through the door and slam it shut without stopping. I dodge the fallen objects on the living room floor and reach our room on the far left side of the house. I pull open the door and nearly have a heart attack at the sight before me.

My father leans back in a chair on the right side of the bed while Mable lays in it with blood trickling out of her nose.

“What are you-” my voice cuts off. Not only from my lack of breath, but from the sight of my father cupping a floating, light green heart in his hand. The heart is the same color as Mable’s eyes and when he lifts it she stiffens. He smiles as he observes me connecting the pieces.

Those books about SOULs and monsters and magic were not a fantasy to him either. He believed in them just as much as our mother did, and the proof that the legends were not just children’s stories floats right in his hands.

How was he able to do that? From what I recall, monsters were made of magic, which meant that every one of them possessed some kind of power. While only specific types of humans could even grasp the concept, let alone control magic with skill.

I open my mouth to say something when he shouts, “Surprise!” at me with a big smile. His shout causes Mable to yelp as he squeezes his hand around the heart. My chest tightens and I’m frozen in place, certain that any slight movement from me will hurt Mable. His smile fades and he finally looks at me the way he always has.

“Have you got your paycheck?”

I quickly nod and hold it out to him, but I don’t take a step. He smiles and stands up, snatching the paper out of my hand before I can react. He looks at the paper and his eerie smile comes back.

“You got a raise, excellent. That sounds like more liquor for me to buy.”

I nod, my gaze going back and forth between Mable and the floor. _What should I do? How can I help her? What is he planning?_

“Krista!” his sharp voice snaps me out of my daze.

“Y- Yes sir?” “I asked you if you wanted to know how I am doing this,” he nods toward the floating heart.

I swallow, not wanting him to stay here any longer. I just want this creepy game to _end_.

“I’m sure however you’re doing it is beyond my comprehension and I’ll trust that you are the only one smart enough to know how to do it.”

He scoffs at my response and squeezes the heart even more. I close my eyes at the sound of Mable’s screams.

“That is called power and control over a SOUL. A certain type of magic I’ve just recently learned how to use. And who better to test it on than my absolute, precious girls?”

My breaths shudder as he walks toward me.

“And now, I would very much like to know what color _your_ SOUL possesses Krista.”

Before I can respond it feels like he is digging his hand in my chest and ripping my heart out. Which he essentially does only, when I clear the spots out of my vision I see that the heart is a deep purple, the same color as my eyes.

He laughs and stares intensely at my SOUL, as if nothing else in the world matters.

“Your SOUL is the same color as hers,” he whispers, a faint glimmer of grief in his eyes.

When I look at him he blinks and glances up at me with a widening smile.

“Well this will most certainly be interesting.”

Before I even move he throws the green heart at Mable’s chest and it disappears into her in a flash of bright light. She blinks and looks around in a daze, her hand clutching her heart. I suddenly realize that I feel a cold emptiness in my chest, as if there’s nothing there.

He pulls something out of his pocket and offers it to me. When I look down I see that it’s a pistol.

My stomach clenches and I look at him with increasing fear, I don’t want to know what he wants me to do with it.

“I want to see if you will obey my every command when you’re under control like this, especially in the most deniable situations possible.”

_No. Please no._

“I want you, to shoot your sister in the head.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When everything seems bad, why does it always take a turn for the worst?


	6. My Last Ties To This World

I can’t, I _won’t_. How could someone be so _evil_? My father- no, this _demon_ , is going to force me to kill the only person in this world that I love.

I try to think of some way to escape, but my thoughts muddle together as he locks his light gray eyes on me. The only thought that comes to me is that they used to be light green, just like Mable’s, but they quickly faded in a matter of days as he turned his anger on us.

A smile slowly grows onto his face as he offers me the gun again. I numbly shake my head and back away a couple steps. He simply smirks and tightens his grip on my heart which causes me to freeze in place.

“You see Krista, it is impossible for you to escape this. I control you, and now I want you to take the gun out of my hand.”

He twists his hand around my heart and I start to walk toward him. I try to stop, to move in any other way, but my body is no longer in my control as I reach for the gun. 

He gives me a look of pride as I take the gun out of his hand and face Mable. Tears are streaming down her face and she looks like she's on the verge of passing out. How long was he torturing her?

“Now, Krista. Kill her.”

I want to fight, to scream, to kill _him_ instead, but all I can do is lift the gun. My vision blurs with tears and my entire body shakes as I try to fight whatever power he holds over me. But it's a losing battle as I point the barrel at Mable’s head.

“I am so, so sorry,” I sob as my finger curls around the trigger. I can see my father twisting his hand around my heart in the corner of my eye. Every twist is a piercing pain in my chest and muscles, but they are nothing compared to the pain of hearing Mable’s last words.

“I don't blame you Krista. You're the best sister I could ever ask for, and there is no one I love more than you.”

My finger shakes as it begins to squeeze the trigger and my voice trembles as I tell her the most important thing I want her to know.

“I love you more than anything.”

Mable smiles and closes her eyes, accepting her death. I scream as my finger pulls the trigger and the bullet hits the center of her head.

The control over my muscles suddenly disappears and my legs crumble beneath me. My entire body trembles as I drop the gun and stare at it. 

I hear soft chuckling to my right and feel the force of my heart going back to where it belongs. Sudden warmth replaces the hollowness that controlled me just seconds ago. 

I look up at my father and see pride in his eyes, pride for himself at the sight of what he has forced me to do.

“It seems that it is possible to make someone kill the person they love most. Fascinating isn't it? That a floating heart will control your actions, even if they go against everything you are?”

My sadness immediately transforms into anger as he describes my pain as if it's a simple little science experiment. 

“I will definitely have to share this with my buddies; they'll get a real laugh out of it. But you're not allowed to tell anyone, you got it?”

I glare at him with every bit of anger I have in an attempt to make him feel some form of regret, but my pitiful act is useless. 

“Or maybe, I should just make sure you never get the chance to say anything at all. No witnesses.” 

My eyes widen as I realize what he means a split second before he reaches for the gun. I snatch it up and leap away from him right before he grabs it.

My whole body shakes as I realize I'm pointing the gun straight at his heart. He slowly puts his hands up in a mocking way.

“Are you going to kill me Krista?”

His sly, mocking voice infuriates me as I prepare to fire it, my finger on the trigger. I don't know who I am. The real me has never even considered killing him. Yet here I am now, so willing to put a bullet in his heart that not even a faint feeling tells me that this is wrong.

Sweat and tears pour down my face as I think of everything he has ever done to Mable and me. He deserves this, and I deserve to be free of him.

My father simply smirks at me and puts his hands down.

“Come on Krista, we both know you aren't going to shoo-.”

I fire a bullet into his heart.

“Shut. Up. _Father_.”

My voice does not sound like mine, it's hoarse and it hisses worse than a snake. 

He stares at me like he doesn't know who I am until I drop the gun and he begins to laugh.

“I always knew you'd be worthless! My only regret will be that I don't get to see how _you_ die!”

His laughter begins to falter as he chokes on his own blood until he falls on the ground, completely lifeless.

My entire body trembles as I stare at the shell of a man who was just tormenting me seconds ago. What have I done?

This isn’t me; I never wanted to hurt anyone! 

My mouth goes dry as I turn and see Mable, the blood seeping from her head wound running over what has already dried. My breathing speeds up, I’m hyperventilating. The smell of blood suddenly reaches my nose and nausea overtakes me. 

I drop to the ground and try to count my breaths. _One, two. One, two._

Nothing works, the normally frigid room becomes too hot and I throw my coat to the side, not caring that it lands in my father’s blood. I clutch my temples with shaking fingers, fighting to gain composure. But there’s no point as my gasps turn into wheezes. I need air, desperately.

I turn to the window to open it when I spot four figures coming toward the house from the city. They appear to be carrying several bottles and one has what looks like a briefcase.

Without thinking, I gather anything that I think might be useful to help me survive the coming weeks. I can’t let them see me, and I definitely can’t live here anymore. 

My breaths wheeze in and out as I grab an old black duffel bag from the closet and gather clothes, food, a lighter for starting fires, and an extra pair of boots.

I notice there’s still room in my bag for something else and I race upstairs to find the two books about SOULs and monsters. Not to learn how to use magic myself, but to see why it was so effective. I find them under my father’s bed and snatch them with shaky hands.

I think about leaving now but I stop when I glance into my bedroom that is now a room of death. I can’t leave without saying goodbye to her, especially since I’m to blame for all this.

I cautiously walk into the room and sit on the edge of the bed. If blood wasn’t dripping out of her forehead I’d think she’s just sleeping. I grab her hand which is now quickly becoming stiff and cold.

“I- I am so sorry Mable. This is my fault. I- I should’ve stood up to him. I shouldn’t have been so _weak_.”

My tears drip onto her hand as I kiss her right temple, my body shuddering with each horrible breath, unable to contain my grief.

I think about turning away now and leaving forever when I see her locket, untouched and gleaming against her porcelain skin. I take it off her with shaking hands and clasp it behind my neck. If I can’t bury her, I should at least take a piece of her, of all of them with me, even my father. But only the memory of the kind man he used to be, there’s nothing but a dead shell now. I turn and leave before I collapse from grief, wiping away my tears with each step. I will never be weak again. 

I lock the door from inside the room and close it shut so the men don’t find out about them too quickly, it should at least buy me a few extra minutes. I realize that I’m leaving my jacket behind, but I can’t find a reason to care, even as the icy air raises goosebumps on my exposed arms.

When I step out the front door, I see the four men only a few feet away. When they notice me, they start to smirk, looking at each other with expressions that terrify me.

“Well old Shell didn’t tell us that his daughter was so pretty,” the one with the case says.

“We were always led to believe that she’s as ugly as he is!”

They all start to laugh while taking steps closer to me. I step back, trying to think of a way out of this mess.

“Where you going darlin’?” the oldest looking one asks.

“I uh, I’ve got some things to do, but I’m sure I’ll be back later,” I say as confidently as possible yet my voice is still shaky.

“Really? You don’t look so good. And it’s getting dark soon; I think we should go inside.”

“Nope, I’m fine, it won’t be long.”

I turn and walk an even pace away from them, nervous that one of them will try to grab me, yet they don’t as they enter the house.

Once the last one goes inside I walk over the hill start sprinting into the valley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where to go now?


	7. Goodbye To The World I Know

I don’t stop for one second. Even though my lungs feel like they’re going to explode and my back might start tearing again. Even when my sprint slows to a jog, I keep going. 

When I’m halfway across the valley I hear sirens in the distance. How could they have found out so fast!?

I go back to running but am almost immediately wiped out as my breaths become even shallower. I can’t get caught out here in the open, especially when I look like a prime suspect.

I reach the bottom of the mountain and see red and blue lights in the distance. A quick glance is all I need to start climbing. Since it’s not a very steep mountain I can practically run halfway up but I keep low to the ground instead and grasp any rocks I see for support.

I don’t even know what I’m doing. What is climbing the mountain going to accomplish? And then it hits me: ending everything.

It’s the perfect solution, no running my whole life, no battle with regrets and grief. I never saw it as a solution, and I’m not entirely sure if I even have the will to do it. But I don’t see any other option to escape this, or a reason to live for that matter.

As I climb, it gets harder to see as the cloudy sky darkens until there is only the faintest bit of sunlight illuminating my path. The sounds of sirens are getting closer, the sounds of engines intensifying, and soon enough, flashlights shine on me from below. I think I hear a man’s voice calling to me, but I ignore it, nothing will matter soon.

When I reach the top, it looks exactly as I remember it, a flat plain of rocks and grass only as big as my house that leads to the opening into the mountain.

I pause to catch my breath and calm my nerves, the last time I was here my mother was alive. The voices below become louder, but I continue to ignore them as I begin to walk towards the opening.

This is it, the end of my life. I never deserved to live long anyways, especially now that Mable is dead. I feel like I’m in some sort of trance, as if the mountain is calling me. Maybe it could be magic, maybe monsters really do exist, and maybe I do deserve to live. But I don’t deserve to live in comfort like I always wanted; instead I should pay for my actions.

I stop when I’m just a foot away from the opening. Is that it? Should I give myself up? Would it be better to submit to the laws of justice?

“Miss, you need to step away from the entrance,” a harsh voice snaps at me.

I whip around and see three young police officers staring me down. Two sit on motorcycles while the third points a handgun at me.

“Miss, we just want to talk. Now please step away and slowly walk toward us with your hands up,” one on a motorcycle says.

I look at the man that just spoke to me, at least he doesn’t have his gun up, but I can’t take my eyes away from the one that does.

“No,” I say in a shaky voice. “You want to kill me.”

The one tightens his grip on his gun with a finger lying on the trigger. The woman next to him looks concerned, but she doesn’t argue either.

I suddenly realize that it’s better to die by my own doing than to have them kill me and kick my body into the mountain. Forget about giving myself up when none of them look willing to listen to me, even the guy who acts like nothing is wrong. 

I slowly take a step back, as if I’m so terrified I didn’t hear them.

“Don’t take another step! Or I’ll shoot your head off!” the man with his finger on the trigger yells.

I stop, but I feel the edge of the plain right behind me, as long as I can jump before he shoots then they won’t catch me. The hypocrite tries to reason with me again but I tune him out, preparing to jump.

He approaches me until he’s right in front of the gun of the paranoid one. I leap back and drop before he can catch me. His shouts ring out in anger as I fall into the darkness, my eyes closing as I accept my choice.

I guess it was a good life, only the best thing about it is now gone forever. How fitting that I die in the mountain that filled both my mother and sister with such wonder. I doubt my body will lay on a bed of golden flowers, a cluster of jagged rocks sounds better considering what I’ve become.

I fall for what feels like an eternity, with only the wind in my ears and the bitter cold of the air to follow me down to my death. I still have my duffel bag wrapped around me, I’m not sure why I can’t let it go, perhaps everyone needs something to hold onto before they die. The thought makes my hand go to the locket around my neck. My thumb rubs its smooth surface and I think of all the times Mable did the exact same thing. _I’ll see you soon sis._

My last thought is a single question; _do I even deserve to see her again?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where does this fall end?


	8. I Can Already Tell We're Going To Be Best Enemies

I feel like I’m floating, or am I simply lying down? Maybe that’s it. I’m just huddled under the covers after another brutal night of cold and Mable will wake me up soon so I can go to work. That’s what it is, right? Only, my head and back are both screaming in pain when I try to move. Something’s not right. I’m not home, I’m not safe, I should be dead, just like Mable is.

***

My eyes slowly open and I’m hit with a burst of light and color. It takes a while for them to adjust as my breaths come out in shaky gasps. 

I’m… alive? That can’t be possible, not with how far that drop was. Perhaps I’m in some sort of purgatory, even though I’ve never believed it was real. At this point it seems that anything is possible, especially if I am in fact alive.

When my eyes fully adjust I see that the ceiling and the wall to my left are both a calming shade of teal. The air is so cold I’m surprised that I can’t see my breath. I notice that I’m slightly elevated on a table-like surface that has chains connecting it to the wall. 

I slowly bring my shaking hands to cover my eyes, wanting to block out the world a little bit longer. My head feels like it’s going to split in half and my entire back is so tense it’s going to take a while to get the blood flowing again. 

After a few minutes I finally decide it’s probably best to observe my surroundings since it’s clear that this isn’t the center of the mountain.

I slowly turn my head to the right and nearly leap out of my skin when I see a skeleton sitting across from me. Well, not _exactly_ like a normal human skeleton, as its head is longer vertically and it has hands with palms, only they’re entirely made out of white bone. I jerk back against the wall and stare at its eye sockets that are strangely alert and seemingly alive. It raises the right side of its face, as if to raise an eyebrow and turns its head to observe me.

My heart pounds in terror and I freeze, as if it won’t notice me if I stay still. It sighs, as if I’m pathetic.  

I notice that it’s wearing a white lab coat with dark gray pants, shoes, and a shirt. Its hands are crossed over its chest, its mouth set in a hard line. I try to say something but my mouth goes dry and I start shaking. What could I say? I’ve _got to be_ dead. Unless… no, it can’t be possible, could it? 

“Hello human,” it says in a deep, masculine voice.

I jump at his voice and press myself against the wall, as if it makes me safer. He looks bored and disappointed, as if he expected a fighter, or at least someone who could talk.

“Yes, I am a monster. And if you’re clever, you will also observe that I am a scientist. Now I’m sure you understand that monsters were sealed underground hundreds of years ago, based on the texts you have with you.”

He gestures to my open duffel bag next to him with the books peeking out. I swallow and simply nod, still unconfident in my ability to speak.

“So you may also understand that monsters have been trying to find a way out all those years.” I just nod, not bothering to state that I’ve never even believed they were real. “This is why you are here. I have an associate that has been observing the golden flowers not too far from the Ruins in the hopes that a human would fall down. Two days ago, she noticed that her camera was black in the daytime. So I went, found you, and took you to my lab. I will once again assume that you are clever enough to understand your purpose here. I expect you to cooperate or else there will be consequences.”

Then he stands and walks out of the room into a hallway. I hear noises, as if a keypad is activated and a green laser shield appears in the doorway. 

I stare at the shield, trying to comprehend what I just witnessed. That was... a monster? And I have a purpose here? This can’t be real, although everything else suggests that I am alive and breathing.

I crawl off the table and grab my duffel bag from across the room. I don’t even have enough strength to stand. 

I collapse onto the floor and dump the contents in front of me. Everything seems to be there, as if he didn’t bother to see what I had. As if he has so much control he couldn’t care less. 

I look around the room for a camera, if he’s so nonchalant there’s no way he’s not monitoring me. Yet after two minutes of looking I don’t see a single speck on the green walls that suggests he is. 

The only thing other than the laser entrance and the tables connected to the walls is a door that leads to a small bathroom that’s extremely clean. There are no cabinets and only one light switch over the standing shower. Someone’s very eco-friendly if he didn’t care to install a light over the sink.

The exploring seems to have done some good as I accept that this is reality. I am captured underground by a scientist skeleton who thinks I’m part of some monumental purpose, whatever that may be.

I try to look down the hall without touching the laser but it’s no use when it nearly singes my hair off six inches away. Could this possibly be a game? Maybe he likes jokes but takes them too far without knowing? However the thought of his cold, sharp tone leads me to believe that this is anything but a game.

What does he think I can do? And even worse, what does he plan on doing with the skill he thinks I have?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are some things that are different about my version of Gaster from the comic:  
> \- He doesn't wear glasses (I didn't think they were very necessary to include in a written story)  
> \- He doesn't smoke (he's a bit healthier, not that it matters)  
> \- He isn't blind in his right eye (although that will happen eventually *hint hint*)  
> \- He speaks in Wingdings, but he can also speak normally so others understand him (the story would be very confusing if Krista could never understand him)  
> \- He's a bit more careless (although Krista doesn't notice it, but he ignores some details that he later addresses [such as adding cameras])  
> \- Obviously, the way he speaks in my version will be slightly different from his form of phrasing sentences in the comic  
> Gaster is the same in that he has close friendships with Alphys and Asgore. He lived on the Surface during the war. He makes sure to maintain his composure and always has control over a situation.  
> Many details/ hints as to how some events occurred (such as how he was able to reach the golden flowers without meeting Toriel) will be addressed in the story at later times. It's the frustration of writing in first person, but I like keeping some things a mystery for the time being.  
> (Also, the lasers in Krista's cell remain visible at all times, it's a form of making her feel like a prisoner so she'll be more obedient.)  
> (Gaster's threats about consequences sound like someone else's...)


	9. Do I Have A Choice?

The next time I wake up, he’s in my room again. I don’t jump as high as I did the first time, but I still jump nonetheless. I bet he loves seeing a frightened human, considering we sealed his kind underground to be forgotten forever. He looks exactly the same as he did the first time, with that lovely scowl on his face.

“Can you do anything besides jump in fear?” he asks as if he doesn’t expect an answer, like someone talking to a dog.

“Y-Yes, I can talk if that’s what you’re asking.”

He doesn’t seem surprised with my response. Can he predict everything I’m going to do? Or is he really so emotionless that nothing will faze him?

“Now that you’ve had time to adjust to your surroundings, I want you to know one thing about me.”

“That you’re a heartless, no-nonsense jerk?”

Whoa, where did _that_ come from?

My stomach clenches almost immediately, realizing what a big mistake I’ve made. Insults are _nothing_ like me. Can events within two days really change a person?

Surprisingly, he just smiles at my description of him. “No, but I am glad that you are as clever as I’d hoped you would be.”

I don’t think merely observing his demeanor would make me clever, but if it keeps me safe from finding out what sort of ‘consequences’ he warned me about then I’ll agree.

“What I really want you to know about me is that I am the type that will do whatever is necessary to achieve my goals. If that includes taking extreme measures then so be it.”

“So how does this apply to me?”

His eerie smile makes my stomach twist. “Will you cooperate?”

Do I really have a choice? “Y-Yes, I will.”

“Then we are ready to proceed; my experiment.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Way to not be creepy Gaster (he really is a jerk, and that's a nice way of saying it)  
> Krista doesn't feel as threatened by him as she seems; at this point she's more curious than anything


	10. Is That A Challenge?

The next day, or at least the next time I wake up, he finally allows me to leave my cell. Of course he tells me where to go, but at least I get to see more of what this place looks like. What’s disappointing is that it all looks the same, which means it’s going to take a while for me to memorize this place.

I suddenly have the urge to plan an escape, learn as much as I can to find an exit, but why? I _wanted_ to die, so what’s the point of escaping when his plans seem like they’ll align with my own at some point?

I try my best to ignore my surroundings, in fear that I am clever enough to find a way. Thankfully, it all practically looks the same, with teal walls and locked doors. There are several hallways that branch off of the one we travel, making this place more confusing by the second.

We take a left and he stops at the second door, taking a key out of his pocket to open it. He steps to the side, as if allowing me to enter first. I cautiously peer inside and see a weird looking control panel protected by a glass wall that separates the rest of the room. The only light comes from a small dome overhead the section on the other side of the glass. The walls in here are painted black.

“Am I going to have to shove you in there myself, human?”

His scowl is all it takes for me to walk through the entrance.

He slams the door shut and locks it in one swift motion, as if he’s done it a million times. How many other humans has he brought in here to test? Are there any trapped down here with me?

He turns to the glass and types a code into the keypad embedded in it. A section of the glass in front of me opens, leading into the larger portion of the room.

“Enter the room.”

I cooperate without a single hesitation. Maybe it’s all those years of my father’s control that’s made me so obedient or perhaps so stupid that I bow to the wishes of anyone that intimidates me.

It shouldn’t matter now anyways, if this scientist ends up killing me because I obey then we both win. Although, maybe he would kill me faster if I disobey, isn’t that better?

“Human! I told you to stand below the light!”

I jump at his voice and see that he’s standing in front of the control panel with a look of pure hatred.

I obey and stare at the ground, as if he won’t notice me if I don’t look at him.

“Now, summon your SOUL.”

What? No, I am not going through that again. I would rather die than see that stupid purple heart again. I look up and reflect his hatred back at him.

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“I heard you loud and clear, but you must be stupid if you think that I could wield magic.”

“The texts you have clearly describe how to summon and control a human SOUL. Unless you are illiterate, which I doubt is the reason; you have no other excuse as to why you would not know.”

I grit my teeth in frustration, trying to come up with an excuse.

“Stop wasting my time and do as you’re told.”

“I can’t!”

His eye sockets narrow in anger and my chest suddenly feels like it is being ripped in half. I scream and fall to the ground, my vision blurring with tears. I hear the door open along with his light, calculated footsteps approaching me.

When his shoes are in my line of sight, I jolt back to look at his face. He seems pleased with both my pain and terror. His fingers form a sharp cage around my floating purple heart. The sight of it makes me sick with disgust.

“Your reaction to my summoning of your SOUL is obvious that you have no knowledge of how to use magic. It actually seems as if you’re trying to reject it, forcing your SOUL to remain hidden. Now why would that be the case?”

My breaths shudder as I continue to clutch my chest, as if it will soothe the pain.

“I asked you a question, answer it.”

“That’s none of your business, monster,” I spit at him.

He simply clutches the heart and I almost black out from the pain. “Answer the question, or I will kill you.”

I pull myself up from the ground and give him a wicked smile. “Fine, kill me then. You’ll be doing me a favor, actually. So please, just _end it._ ”

He takes a step back, which I assume is a sign that I may have actually surprised him. “No, I won’t kill you, but if you do not cooperate, then I will be forced to use other methods that are far more unpleasant than this one.” 

Great, then maybe _they_ will kill me since this one nearly does the job.

“So what is your decision, human? Will you offer an answer to my simple question? Or will I have to tear it out of you?”

My smile eerily spreads without permission.

“Do you worst, _demon_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaster likes using keys because they make him feel like he has more authority (but of course, who needs keys in a secret lab no one ever enters?). Gaster's not desperate for an answer, he just wants an excuse to test Krista.


	11. Just Follow Instructions

He leads me through another maze of hallways, clutching my SOUL the entire time. Without thinking, ideas on how to catch him off guard keep flooding into my head, each one demanding that I use it. I clench my hands into fists and quietly follow, forcing myself to believe that any attempt to escape would be pointless. I shouldn’t be feeling this want to get out of here, yet I do.

_ You don’t deserve freedom Krista, you’re a demon, worse than both him and your father combined. _

My chest suddenly feels like it’s been stabbed and I cry out in pain, my vision snapping up to him. He stares at me with dull amusement, enjoying my pain, yet irritated at the same time.

“Are you willing to follow my instructions now?”

I take a deep breath and give him a quick glare before entering the door in front of me.

This room is very similar to the other one, the only difference being that there is a metal table under the domed light behind the glass. I walk inside and he follows the exact same routine as last time. 

I enter the room behind the glass and stand in front of the table, a slight hint of fear bites the back of my mind. 

Without thinking, I lie down on the table and stare at the black ceiling. If there were white specks on it, it would be easy to believe that I’m only outside, staring at the stars.

Wait a second, why did I even think to lay down? Oh yeah, he’s using that damned heart to control me, is it also muddling my thoughts, simply making me an obedient slave?

I jump when I feel cold metal press against my temples; I turn my head and see that he’s behind the glass, using some kind of blue magic to hook up a bunch of wires. I guess it’s better than him standing next to me; I’d have to fight the urge to steal back my SOUL.

After a few minutes, he finally has everything set up for whatever form of torture this is supposed to be. My heart begins to pound when nothing but silence rings in my ears. Finally, a speaker whines in the shadows of the room before he talks.

“This is your last chance to answer my question, human. Why are you so resistant to magic?”

“Why don’t you find out yourself, monster? Since you enjoy watching humans in pain so much, I’ll gladly cooperate if it means you get an extra entertainment factor while conducting your ‘research.’”

I hear him scoff over the speakers, as if I’m crazy, yet fascinating at the same time.

“Fine then, we shall begin.”

At first, all I feel are slight vibrations in my temples, the freezing metal slowly warms up until it is nearly burning. My heart speeds up again when I realize that I have no idea what this might do to me. Is it electric shock therapy? Is it the kind that either erases the person’s memories or turns them into a psychopath? 

I can only form that thought before I black out and the torture begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He would have proceeded even if she had answered the question, he's just curious about her reactions.


	12. Where Did You Get Those Scars?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EMSLYwHNMBc while writing this chapter. It has nothing to do with the chapter itself, but I thought it was worth mentioning since it's such a great song. As someone who always has to listen to music whenever I'm writing, I like finding new songs so I thought I'd share it.

No, it’s far worse than erasing my memories; it’s a literal walk through them. It’s as if he’s looking through a glossary of my life, searching for specific details that will only lead to my torment and his entertainment. 

The memory I’m thrown into is one of the first times my father punished us; it was for an incident so small any other parent would’ve just given a time-out. 

Oh, please no. I’ve been trying to bury these memories for years, only to have them shoved in my face like an obnoxious advertisement, an impossible escape.

It fades in through a foggy haze until the memory sharpens into a clear image. It’s as if I’m actually there, staring at my cracked, bleeding knuckles in the freezing air. The full moon’s shine mixed with the few lights left on in the distant city casts strange shadows, making my vision create harmless phantoms out of them. My whole body trembles from the cold, it’s supposed to snow later, but my father doesn’t care about that.

My back is bare; he had torn my shirt after loosely tying my hands to the tree. It was pointless to do so, since he knows I won’t run anyway. I’m taking this punishment for Mable, it doesn’t matter a single bit to me that she was the one who stole the store’s fruit in the first place. We hadn’t eaten anything decent in two weeks, she was just desperate. I begged my father to punish me instead; it amused him so much that he willingly agreed.

He was vague on what the punishment was exactly, but I had a few ideas when I asked to take it. When he came home with a whip he had gotten from who knows where, all I had left to do was mentally prepare for the pain. 

He locked Mable in our room so she wouldn’t see this, not because he didn’t want to traumatize her, but to make sure she won’t help me get back inside the house a few yards to my left. I really don’t care what this’ll do to me, as long as the scars aren’t marking her fragile body.

I grit my teeth and press my forehead into the tree, just waiting for the first strike. It doesn’t come for minutes and my trembling increases. What a sick joke, I can imagine his smile right now, the only real one he has nowadays, brought on by the sight of pain and fear.

I start to turn towards him, about to ask if he can just do it already when the first slice of the whip digs into my upper back, reaching as far up as the middle of my neck. My whole body smacks against the tree, tearing the skin even further. I don’t even have time to catch my breath before the next blow comes, slicing through my lower back with ease.

I gasp and shake, feeling slightly crazy when I almost laugh, glad that I put my hair in a bun just before this. What a stupid thought as tears pour down my face, feeling like they could freeze at any second. The one upside to the cold is that it numbs the pain, but only just a little bit.

The slashes continue for an eternity, my screams and tears blurring in a haze of incomprehensible misery. Through it all I remember that this is just a memory, enhanced by the scientist’s machines. He’s probably replaying each lash, laughing at the little human girl who asked for the punishment in the first place.

Eventually, the lashes stop, my father coils up the whip and walks back to the house, leaving my beaten body to remain sagged and twitching underneath my beloved pear tree. I lay there for at least a good hour, blood slowly trickling down my back until it freezes to my skin. It feels like a solid wall of steel, any slight movement cracks it open for more blood to seep through.

_ You have to move Krista _ , I think to myself. But it’s so, so painful, and I’m so tired, maybe it’s better to stay.

**_No, if you stay here, you will die. And who will take care of Mable then?_ **

My eyes snap open and I obey my subconscious, beginning with the slightest movements to get to my knees. Then, I fumble with the thick string he tied around my wrists. After ten minutes, I finally get it off, forcing my aching fingers to work.

I turn toward the house and try to stand, but it’s impossible. My head pounds and I’m shivering harder than I ever have in my life. 

_ Just get to the house. _

I move like a worm drying out in the sun, progress painfully slow as I go back and forth from crawling to simply dragging myself with every ounce of energy I have left.

About halfway to the house, it begins to snow, the wind picking up and slicing away any last bit of feeling I have left. My arms collapse underneath me and I rest my cheek on the frozen earth. Snowflakes swirl into my fading vision, sticking to my frosted eyelashes.

Why did I ever think that I could make it? Because of a tiny burst of energy created by a single motivating thought? At least the one positive is that Mable didn’t have to experience this. Even though Mable’s strong, she’s only six, there’s no way she would have ever been able to untie herself from the tree.

My eyes slowly close and my body relaxes, knowing I’ve reached my limit; all I can do is pray that Mable will get out of here one day. That she’ll live her life to the fullest, with nothing but constant reasons to smile. Yeah, she’ll have a family, and be a history teacher, telling children the legends of the mountain.

“Krista.” 

And… what was I thinking? There’s cold and snowflakes and a girl beside me.

“ _ Krista, please _ .”

Who is she, again? She sounds... familiar, innocent, kind.

“ **Krista!** ”

My eyes snap open and I see Mable’s face coated with freezing tears, her hands are slightly bloody.

“W- What are you… doing here?”

Why is it so hard to talk? Oh yeah, screaming tends to do that to a throat.

“I snuck out of the house after he went to sleep. Apparently there’s this hidden lock on our window that actually lets you open it. I only just discovered it a few minutes ago, oh, Krista I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I whisper in a hoarse voice.

“Here, let me help you up.”

I wrap my left arm over her shoulder and she pulls me up. I try to help in any way, but my whole body feels like a block of ice. I’m scared that my sixty pounds to her forty-five will hurt her, yet Mable shows no signs of pain. Her face is set with a determined expression to get me home.

When we finally reach the house, she gently lays me down and opens the window as wide as possible.

“Can you try to stand?” She offers her hand and I grab it, forcing my useless legs to work, everything is ice, I’m suddenly afraid of hypothermia.

As I lean against the house, she grabs a chair from inside and helps me climb up onto it and through the window. I collapse on the ground and my shivering increases when the warm air hits my skin. 

Mable shuts the window as quickly as possible and drags me to the fireplace on the other side of the room. He actually allowed a fire tonight; does that show he cares in some way?

“Krista? Hey, look at me.” 

Her voice is so demanding and desperate that I can’t help but look at her. “I’m going to clean you up, but I’m going to wake you every now and then, just to- to make sure you’re okay.”

I give her a shaky thumbs-up and she smiles, reaching over to touch my arm. “You have no idea how bad I feel about this. I deserve those scars, not you.”

“ **No** ,” I say a little too loud. “You’re the last person to ever deserve anything like this.”

She gives me a sad smile. “Just rest, I’ll make it better.”

I can barely nod in response before my eyes shut and I fall into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't the memory Krista was expecting.


	13. Did That Answer Your Question?

A sharp jolt in my chest forces me up, and I inhale sharply, gasping. I clutch my chest and try to breathe, my dry throat causing me to cough. My vision comes into focus and I remember where I am. His lab, underground, I’m fifteen again, my father’s dead, and Mable’s gone.

After a good minute, I finally look up and see him staring at me with a bored expression, his arms crossed judgmentally. He just saw, that whole memory. 

Somehow, whether magic or technology, he was able to see everything. This sends me into another fit of coughing before he finally sighs and places a glass of water on the table with his magic. I chug it down without a care that he sees my desperation. 

It’s clear that there won’t be any secrets between us. Well,  _ I _ won’t be able to keep secrets from him.

Once I can breathe, I look at him more closely, searching for any signs of what he’s thinking, nothing. 

It infuriates me so much that I finally yell, “What, was that not entertaining enough for you?”

He simply raises the right side of his face, and turns on his heels. “We’re done for the day; you’re going back to your cell.”

I sigh and mutter an insult at him before jumping down from the table. When my feet hit the ground, I almost completely fall forward before grabbing the table at the last second. I clutch my head that’s now pounding in tune with my heart.

“Nausea is a side effect of the tests, so is having your SOUL returned when you have not possessed it for some time.”

“And how long has it been?” I snap at him.

“I do not need to share that information with you.”

I glare as best as I can when a thought hits me. “Did you get the answer to your question out of that memory?”

He freezes, a finger hovering over the keypad.

“Ah-hah! So essentially, you just wasted all that time and gained nothing out of it.”

“Oh no, you are mistaken. In fact, it does not trouble me at all that I did not receive my answer today. I gained an enormous amount of data from that memory, and I already know what I’m going to do with it. I actually believe that you will just give me the answer someday, whenever you reach your breaking point.”

I scoff, like I’d ever willingly tell him something, or that he has the capability to break me.

“If that memory wasn’t proof enough, then you’ll soon realize that it’ll take a hell of a lot more damage to break me.”

“I’m counting on it.”

He types the code into the keypad and swings the door open.

“Now are you coming? Or would you like to spend the night in here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhere, very deep down, Gaster feels the tiniest speck of pity for the little human. Probably.


	14. A Surprisingly Vague History Lesson

For the next week, he only comes to my cell once a day, tossing a granola bar and a bottle of water at me. I try to start a conversation, or at least insult him, but every time he just turns away and ignores me.

It’s actually a relief to not leave my cell, since nothing but horror awaits me beyond the green lasers. Although, I’m curious as to how one traumatic memory is enough to keep him busy for an entire week. What could possibly have been so informative about it?

I guess I should stop wondering, it won’t get me anywhere. He probably wants me to sit here and question everything he does. I shouldn’t give him that much satisfaction. Instead, I actually get a good look at the books on SOULs and the history of monsters.

Both of the books are surprisingly new; the pages are white and there are barely any indents on the spines to make them easier to open. Both are hardcovers colored black with the faintest scent of a new book smell.

One is titled,  _ A History of Humans and Monsters _ , written in gold letters. The other is,  _ The Relation Between SOULs and Living Beings _ , written in silver letters.

Clearly Mom somehow got her hands on reprints of the original texts since there’s no way someone would recently write something like this. I mean, who seriously believes in old legends? 

I definitely know better now that they should not be so easily cast aside.

I grab the history book and open to the first page. I might as well brush up on my knowledge about monsters before diving into all the magic stuff. 

I expect an introduction, or something that generally explains the book’s contents like a modern textbook. Instead, it just gets right down to business.

_ The conflict between humans and monsters did not always exist. In fact, it is far more recent than many have claimed. The two races actually lived in peace for many centuries. They saw each other as perfect equals, despite their obvious differences. These utopian circumstances changed because of seven humans- wizards, as they later called themselves. These “wizards” were the cause of all conflict between humans and monsters. _

_ Prior to what is now known as The Sorcery War, humans did not consciously possess the ability to use magic. While magic came naturally to even the simplest of monsters, humans did not know where to even begin in attempting such a feat. During the years of peace, the two races justified that only monsters had the ability because their bodies were almost completely made of a magical substance. They stated that humans could not because their bodies were composed of physical matter. _

_ While this justification is true, the two races had chosen to ignore the fact that a SOUL (which can only be summoned by magic), is the culmination of both a human’s and a monster’s being. _

_ The wizards claimed that there must be some way for humans to use magic if their entire being was connected to a SOUL. So, the wizards studied their fellow monsters’ abilities in the magic arts and eventually learned the ability to summon SOULs. However, they did not stop there, as they felt humans could reach far greater abilities than that. _

_ While there are no specific records as to how the wizards learned their most powerful skills, it is rumored that they conducted horrible experiments on innocent monsters. _

_ The power of the wizards became so great that they were able to rally other humans under the belief that monsters were too weak to live with in unity anymore. They spread lies that claimed monsters had kept magical abilities from humans out of jealousy. The wizards stated that monsters wanted to remain more powerful than humans in order to control them. _

_ Their claims are now so glaringly wrong, as it has been proven that even the weakest human is far more powerful than thousands of strong monsters. This is because physical matter is a better conduit for magic rather than a being entirely composed the substance. This proves as to why nearly 97 percent of the original monster population was eradicated during the century-long Sorcery War. (There are many disputes about the actual length of the War, as the true fighting on battlefields did not begin until nearly seventy years after the wizards preached their claims. However, many still view that seventy-year period as part of the War, due to growing animosity and separation between the races.) _

_ The wizards’ claims gained the most support after an accident in which a monster fused its SOUL with a human’s who had died. A creature of unspeakable power and horror was formed, destroying a large percentage of the human village before the wizards killed it. After the accident, nearly every human joined the fight against the monsters, determined to punish them for the creature that manifested fear and distrust.  _

_ The War was finally ended when the wizards (they used magic to keep themselves alive), forced the remaining monsters underground and sealed the entrance at the top of Mt. Ebott to keep them from escaping. _

_ The wizards died shortly after the end of the War, claiming they had fulfilled their purposes. However, it was later proven that their SOULs could no longer take the constant strain of magic use, as they had outlived their intended life expectancies. _

_ The two imperative factors of this history are why there were seven wizards and why the monsters were specifically sealed underground at Mt. Ebott.  _

_ There were seven wizards because that is the number of colors and traits that human SOULs can possibly possess (this excludes gray because it is the absence or opposite of a trait). While there is no clear understanding as to why this is the case, some claim that there are only seven fundamental traits that define every human. The color that a human possesses represents the trait that is the most prominent in their personality. (This is further discussed in The Relation Between SOULs and Living Beings). _

_ The monsters were specifically sealed at Mt. Ebott because many believe that it is the source of all magic. While there is no distinct proof, almost the entire monster population remained close to the mountain when the race lived on the surface. This theory is further proven through the fact that it was the only place the wizards felt powerful enough to create a spell that held the monsters underground, for all eternity. _

_ However, many believe that one day monsters will be able to break the spell’s barrier and return to the surface. Many have stated that seven human SOULs would be able to do it because seven humans created the spell. Others say that it would take the amount of monster SOULs that equate to seven humans’ in order to work. This is, of course, nearly impossible to judge since no one knows the capability of one human SOUL.  _

_ For those who wish to see monsters once again, they have to jump down the mountain themselves. However, there is no proof that one could even survive the fall, as the few who have jumped, have never returned. _

_ It is simply a matter of faith, or delusion, that those who fall down will see the world the monsters have built in the centuries that have passed since the end of the War.  _

_ If there is one true fact about what lies at the bottom of the mountain, it would be that golden flowers will cushion the jumper’s fall. This is true as many have seen yellow flower petals drift through the wind surrounding and exiting the mountain. They are the last symbol of the monster’s dreams before humanity forgets their existence. _

Wow. I don’t remember Mom’s stories being that intense, or bitter. But I guess I also wasn’t paying much attention since I didn’t think it was  _ actual history _ .

I spend the rest of my week of solitude reading through the entire history book, searching for anything useful. Or at least something I could use to poke fun at my very un-fun babysitter. Unfortunately, the majority of it is just detailed explanations of important battles and maybe a few human political figures who had influence on the war along with the wizards. 

There’s nothing on any of the monsters who were important or even what the wizards’ names were. They were just called the names of their SOUL traits, and even then the book does not highlight what their skills were, how informative. For something titled  _ A History of Humans and Monsters  _ the author really couldn’t be any less descriptive on the  _ actual humans and monsters _ who were important at the time.

By the end of the week, when I’m just about ready to throw the book into the laser beam after scanning every page for the twentieth time, it shuts off and the great skeleton himself approaches.

His expression is as passive as ever when he grabs the book out of my hand and tosses it into my bag.

“Your break is over. It is time for more intense tests.”

He rips my SOUL out and forces me to follow. The pain immediately erases the little power I felt through my anger at the book, replacing it with fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my interpretation of some of the history of the war between humans and monsters. The information will have more meaning to Krista much later in this story, but I felt this was the best time to establish it in order for her to have a better understanding of Gaster's bitterness. I know that already having a general knowledge of Undertale's backstory makes this seem pointless, but my intention for this story is to show what it would be like for someone to be thrown into that world with almost no knowledge of it. So, she's got to learn why the world is the way it is somehow, (there will be a decent amount of scenarios in which the reader will know much more than Krista, the poor girl's got a lot to learn).  
> (Also, I'd like to think granola would be a cheap and easily accessible food in the Underground. Even though it's not even in the game, I'm sticking with my zero-baked theory.)


	15. Magic 101

We travel down another maze of hallways until he stops at a door with a white line painted down the middle. He opens it with a silver key and gestures for me to walk inside. 

The main difference this room has from the others is that the walls are painted the same shade of teal as the hallways. It’s also far better lit and has what I assume to be some sort of training dummy in the corner of the room.

Wait, a training dummy?

I’m pretty sure this guy is crazy, but how does viewing my messed up past and training me work together? Maybe it's less entertaining to kill someone who doesn't know how to fight back.

I stand in the center of the room (since that’s all he ever asks for) and hope my expression is perplexed enough that I don’t have to outright ask him anything.

He locks the door and my eyes naturally follow to where he places the key in his lab coat pocket. When he looks up, my head drops to the ground in an attempt to prove that I’m nothing but an ignorant human. I think he can tell I’m bad at faking.

“Since you are so naturally fearful of asking questions, I’ll assume you would prefer to remain uninformed-”

“No.”

His eye sockets narrow at my rude interruption, but I don’t care. He’s not my father, and I’m the only one who has to face the consequences of my actions. So why not give him a little attitude?

“I want to know what the hell you want from me, and why you think I have some ability that will help you reach your goal. What are you even trying to achieve? And how does that apply to what you did last week? You had no right-”

“Enough.”

I bite my lip when his fingers tighten around my SOUL. Maybe I should’ve started ranting  _ after _ I had that stupid heart back in my chest.

“None of your questions benefit me in any way. So I will not answer them. I will however, explain to you what your task will be for today.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes. “Oh, goody.”

“Silence, human.”

I bite back another comment, slightly curious as to what he wants me to do.

“Today’s test will be simple. I-”

“I thought you said it would be more intense.”

He gives me a glare. “It will be intense for you because you experience pain whenever your SOUL is summoned.”

Oh no.

“I have never seen a human so resistant to magic, and while you deny explaining now, I’m sure you will eventually.”

He shoves the heart back into me and I bite back a scream. Why does he always try to make it hurt? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, but seriously, what has made him so mad at the world? Well, besides the obvious.

He steps back and crosses his arms over his chest. “Now, summon your SOUL.”

“How am I supposed to do that?”

“While magic is a more difficult feat for humans, I can assure you that it is  _ very _ possible. The simplest way is to think of who you are as a being. What you have done and how you naturally react to the world are key factors in any magic use.”

“Then how come you can rip a SOUL out with no problem?”

“That is a forceful form, usually connected to the darker side of magic because it is against your will. However, a SOUL can also be summoned without your permission when another being challenges you to magical combat. I have used both of these methods on you, and your reactions were relatively the same. This leads me to believe that there is also a mental factor that is prohibiting you from distinguishing the difference.”

Well, I guess that makes sense. “So if I just think really hard about who I am then I can painlessly summon the heart?”

“Yes, unless you want to experience agony, because it will hurt  _ far _ greater when you do it rather than if I did. If you want to, then I suggest focusing on more painful memories, or the traits that you hate most about yourself.”

I hate acknowledging the fact that I kind want to feel that. I deserve it, right?

I shake my head and place a hand above my heart. No, I should focus on what is good in me. Focus on the people that have made me better than I could ever be alone.

The rest of the room blurs away as I stare at the floor and think about the best people I have ever known.

Mable, Mom, Dad before he changed, Matt, even Bonnie who I wish I could’ve known better. All of these people who made me smile and laugh. I carry memories of them wherever I go, with the faintest hope that they will be by my side again.

Who am I? 

I’m just a girl named Krista. I care about the people closest to me. My heart belongs to the sunsets I’ve watched and the flowers I’ve planted. I love the scent of rain and the caresses of snowflakes. I’ve never had too many hopes for the future, because I prefer to live life in the moment. Because moments are all that really matter. Not a collection of years that can be summed up into one sentence, but instead thousands of scrapbooks that document the importance of the little things. 

That’s who I am, right?

“Interesting.”

My eyes snap up to his passive face and he nods to my hand. It’s cupping the purple heart, my SOUL.

I can’t help but smile a little. “Did I just use magic?”

“A very small amount but yes, you did.”

I laugh the tiniest bit before remembering that he’s probably mentally documenting everything I do. But how else could I react? I just did something I never believed was possible.

“Now, return it.”

I raise an eyebrow and try the only way I can think of. I move the heart towards me and imagine the feeling of a cool breeze on a humid day. The feeling of my surroundings returning to a comfortable temperature has always been a small joy.

The heart returns as painlessly as it left.

I expect him to at least say he approves (since I don’t think “impressed” is in his vocabulary) but instead he just nods.

“You can return to your cell now.”

I shake my head at his back and follow him.

Once he leaves, I sit down and realize how tired I am. Who knew that just a little magic use could be so exhausting? I curl up on my makeshift bed and happily close my eyes with the slight hope that I’ll have a good dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to think that using magic would have a deep connection to who you are as a person, especially when you first discover how to use it. Over time magic use would just become second nature, but you've first got to establish that link between who you are and an untapped power. (Of course, Krista's more concerned about how this benefits Gaster rather than realizing the fact that magic isn't all that bad.)


	16. Purple = Perseverance

I guess it was too much to ask for, a good dream. But at least I didn’t have a bad one either, just the bliss of unconsciousness.

I get up and grab the history book in an attempt to block out my usual morning questions on what I might experience today. It will be another week’s wait right? Or could it not be since we didn’t do any memory-searching yesterday?

_Stop worrying Krista, it won’t help._

I scan the book for about the eightieth time and bore myself within an hour. With a dramatic sigh, I toss it into my duffel bag. There’s nothing useful, might as well move on to the SOUL one.

Just like the first book, it doesn’t begin with an introduction. Instead, there’s a chart that outlines the seven human SOUL traits with bold text written above it.

 **_This is the_ ** **_most accurate_ ** **_order of the weakest to the strongest SOULs known to humankind_ ** **_only_ ** **_in reference to the power each SOUL trait usually contains. While this may not apply to all people, it does to most, which is why this is the accepted chart used to reference the average strength of most SOULs possessing these traits._ **

_Color_

| 

_Personality Trait_  
  
---|---  
  
_Cyan_

| 

_Patience_  
  
_Green_

| 

_Kindness_  
  
_Orange_

| 

_Bravery_  
  
_Blue_

| 

_Integrity_  
  
_Yellow_

| 

_Justice_  
  
_Purple_

| 

_Perseverance_  
  
_Red_

| 

_Determination_  
  
 

So overall, I am perseverant? Hmm, I guess that makes sense. Only, it doesn’t _feel_ like I’m the kind of person who would have such a powerful personality trait. If anything, I think I’m Patient. It’s a simple, lowly characteristic that asks for little and waits for as long as possible. That sounds like me.

My eyes drift up to the only other SOUL color that interests me: green. It doesn’t surprise me that Kindness would be Mable’s trait, there’s no better way to describe who she was. But then that also means that my father was kind. His last few years couldn’t have been farther from the trait, but I distinctly remember how similar his personality was to Mable’s before Mom was gone. Plus, his eyes were green, just like hers during those years, before they slowly faded to gray.

My eyebrows scrunch in confusion as I realize that the chart doesn’t have a gray SOUL on it. I turn to the next page and see nothing but text that outlines the specifics of each SOUL. Maybe it’s farther into the book.

Something else bothers me as I stare at the colors of the SOULs. Mine is a shade much darker than the purple in the book, and Mable’s was a lighter green. Will this be addressed later on? I hope so, because this is far more interesting than the history book.

I flip back to the second page and prepare to read the first section about Patience when the lasers turn off. I jump to my feet and toss the book into my bag, hoping that he’s just bringing another drab granola breakfast. That sounds lovely if it means he’ll go away as fast as possible.

My hopes diminish when he appears empty handed. His eyes follow to where I tossed the book. Is it me, or was there the slightest bit of worry in his expression?

“More tests?” I ask before he treats me like a child that should remain silent and obedient.

He nods and turns on his heel without a word. I cautiously follow with an eyebrow raised.

“No ripping out my SOUL? No standard comment about how I need to follow your every order?”

“Would you like me to?”

I bite my lip to keep from saying anymore. I think I’ve found the fine line where I can say just enough to annoy him, but not so much that he’ll inflict pain.

I realize that I’m vaguely learning the layout of this place when I recognize the door we stop at. My stomach immediately twists, this is the room he forced me to re-experience that memory in.

He takes out a black key and opens the door. I don’t remember him needing a key last time, but then again, I also had my SOUL ripped out which was kind of disorienting.

I enter the room with a passive expression, even though every nerve screams to run as far as possible. If there’s one way I can have the upper hand, it’s through hiding my fear. I cross the room and place a hand on the freezing table.

_I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this._

But there’s no escape, so I might as well get it over with.

I jump up on the table and lay down, my body shivering in seconds. I glance to the side and see he’s already at his control panel behind the glass. It makes me wonder how he got this fancy tech down here. There’s no way technology was _that_ advanced back when monsterkind was sealed underground.

The wires are hooked up and the metal is pressed to my temples. For the finishing touch of his tortuous masterpiece, my purple heart appears once again. Only this time, it barely hurts. I guess that’s why he didn’t care to rip it out back at my cell. He knew our little training session yesterday would make the pain nearly nonexistent.

But… why would he do that? Wouldn’t it be better to use that as a weapon? Wouldn’t it be an easier tactic to keep me in line? What benefit does my lack of pain give him?

My questions disappear when I feel the metal begin to heat up and I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping the memory will be fairly mild. But of course, anything nice is too much to ask for down here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my interpretation of how the SOUL traits would be ordered in terms of power/strength; it's going to come up a decent amount in this story.  
> (Now which memory shall we suffer through next?)


	17. If This Is Today, What Will Come Tomorrow?

“Krista! Krista!” Mable yells as she slams the door shut.

I run into the living room and see her beaming with two ripe pears in her hands.

“They’re finally ready! It only took until the middle of October, but they’re here!” I smile and snatch the bigger one out of her hands. “Hey! I want that one!” she says with a laugh.

“No way, I’m a grown up thirteen year old and I get to make the rules.”

She gives me a little sneer and I toss the pear back to her as if her expression was too intimidating.

“Aww, I guess you win again.”

“Well, I suppose I can be kind and let you have it,” she says in a noble voice, as if I’m a peasant and she is a forgiving queen. “Plus, it’s your turn anyway. I remember from last year,” she says in a serious tone. 

“Ah-hah! I just wanted you to admit that,” I say snatching it back from her.

Mable sticks out her tongue and takes a bite out of her pear.

We sit down on the couch that faces the front door and wait for our father to return home. There are two other couches to our left and right that face each other. I guess our house once had many visitors if we needed this many places to sit. 

There is a coffee table in the center and several stands around the room for lamps. We keep only one lamp on since he’d have a fit if we ever had the house decently lit at midnight.

I had asked Mable to check the pear tree since we hadn’t in two weeks. Of course, she feared that our father would return early and punish her for being outside so late. When I offered to do it instead, (after waiting for three hours) she bolted outside and told me to keep an eye out in our room.

It still pains me to think of how traumatized she must still be after the last major punishment two years ago. Sure Father’s had some cruel ones since then, but I don’t think Mable’s gotten over seeing her sister lying on the frozen earth, bleeding to death. My stomach twists every time I think about it, but there’s no way I can protect her from what’s already happened.

“Hey Krista, do you know what would be really amazing?”

My focus shifts back to the present and Mable stares at me with her bright green eyes. She’s almost done with her pear already. I take a few bites of mine as if to prove that nothing’s bothering me. But of course, the dread of my father coming home always does.

“What would be amazing?”

“If we could go to a pear orchard someday! Can you imagine? Rows upon rows of gorgeous pear trees. The scent of the air heavy with the luscious fruit. Oh, it would be like a dream.”

“You can’t think of experiences any more amazing than that?” I ask in a playful tone.

“Well I can, but I don’t think they’d be very realistic.”

“Mable, any dream would be unrealistic to imagine now. But someday, when we’re far away from here, we could go anywhere in the world. Now, try to imagine  _ that _ .”

Mable squints and presses her hands to her temples. 

“Okay, I’m trying to imagine what it would be like to stand on a beach.”

After a few moments she drops her hands and shrugs.

“Sorry, I need to experience it for real, and since that won’t happen anytime soon, we could actually go to an orchard!”

“Why are you so hung up on this orchard idea?”

“Because I really think we could go to one! I actually saw an ad for one when we went to the city yesterday! It’s only a few miles from here!”

I sigh dramatically and toss my pear’s core into the trash can across the room.

“Alright Your Highness, I’ll try to come up with an excuse to go there. But remember, we have to make it sound like it would benefit him in some way and that it won’t make his “public image” look bad. Which of course, is bad enough already.”

Mable smiles brightly and leaps into my arms.

“Oh thank you Krista! I’m sure he’ll listen! I mean, I think he might be getting better. We’ve gone to the city four times within the past month, and he hasn’t gotten mad at all!”

“Yeah but those trips fully benefitted him, not us.”

“So? We’ll just make it sound like our only goal is to get more pears for him, and we’ll pay for it all!”

“You mean  _ I _ will pay for it all, Mable.”

“Hey, I earned those twenty bucks for babysitting that lady’s cat last week didn’t I?” 

“Yeah, a lady that  _ I _ used to help, and I only couldn’t that day because I was taking care of three dogs and a gerbil.”

“So you see? We totally have enough money to go!”

I sigh dramatically and finally hug her back.

“If only your manipulative charm worked on him.”

“I’m not manipulative, I’m persuasive,” she says jumping back to her side of the couch.

I’m about to make a comment about how they’re basically the same thing when the door swings open and we freeze.

Father steps in with an armload of bottles and a glare on his face. I’m about to ask our orchard idea when I see two other men walk in behind him.

He’s never brought friends before, not even after his whole rant a year ago about how our house needed more guests, a statement that I highly disagreed with.

The first man looks to be in his early thirties, a bit younger than Father. It’s actually amazing how similar they look, with bald heads and gray eyes. The difference is that this guy appears to lift weights every day. His biceps are so huge it looks like they’ll tear through his leather jacket.

The other one looks to be in his late forties, with a full head of gray hair and cyan eyes. While he looks to be the least intimidating of the three, I think he might be the most drunk out of all of them.

I nudge Mable’s arm as a sign that we should probably go hide, but the bald guy fixes his eyes on us and sneers.

“You didn’t tell us you had kids Shell,” he says in a slightly slurred voice.

Father turns and raises an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah, it’s real easy to forget they even exist. But when I don’t, they’re fun entertainment.”

I don’t like the sound of that.

“We were just about to go to our room,” I say grabbing Mable’s hand. “Just carry on and you can remember to forget we exist.”

The man with the cyan eyes lunges forward and grabs my wrist.

“Oh I don’t think so sweetheart. You see, your old man is quite boring and we were considering beating the shit out of him but, I think you’d be better.”

I try to jerk my hand away but his grip only tightens, those yellow fingernails digging into my flesh. I glance at my father to see his response to the man’s mild threat, immediately cringing at the sight of his smile. It’s the clearest indication that everything they’ve said so far has been planned, an elaborate set up to the same joke he enjoys far too much. 

For the longest time he has let nature satisfy his twisted entertainment, from a freezing house to growling stomachs. Now, he wants to see other people abuse us for once; a fast paced show rather than searching for the effects of time’s slow torment. I’m sure it’s a breath of fresh air to his sense of humor.

I let go of Mable’s hand and nudge her to the back. If I can’t get out of this then she  _ has to, _ while she still has a chance _. _

Mable slowly backs up toward the hallway that leads to our room out of the corner of my eye. I stare into the eyes of each of the men, trying to keep them distracted. But there’s no point as the other man rushes toward her and yanks Mable back into the room.

“You don’t mind if we use your girls as punching bags, do you Shell?” the younger one asks.

My father nods his head and I gasp. Not out of shock, but fear of what that means for Mable.

“Of course, but since I am their father, I’ll place some ground rules to keep this civil. You can only punch them in the face, and kicks go to the torso. No weapons are allowed, and the older one still has some unhealed scars on her back so I don’t mind if you rip them open.”

“ **NO** !” Mable screams.

I bite my lip and shake my head. Of course he would be so cruel. He’ll enjoy this. The least I can do is try to fight.

I kick the old guy right in the sweet spot and shove the couch to my right at the younger one. Mable leaps out of the way and I grab her hand before racing to the back.

Right before we reach the handle to our room I’m yanked back and my head smacks against the ground. I can tell it’s the younger guy that hauls me up since his nails are just stubs on my shoulders.

“Y’know, I was seriously considering only getting a few punches in, but you’ve pissed me off enough that it’s going to be a long night darling.”

“Go to hell!” I scream at him as I try to fight my way out of his arms.

There’s no point.

The older guy moves the couch and the coffee table out of the way so they have plenty of room to beat us. The young one shoves me to the ground, and I look up to see my father sitting on the couch that was once to the left of me a few minutes ago. He shakes his head and glares with a disappointed expression.

“You could’ve made this easy Krista, but you just had to be a little rebel. Now your sister will pay the price.”

My fighting spirit disappears in an instant, replaced with the lowest I’ll ever be, a beggar.

“No, please. It’s my fault so punish me.”

“I can’t keep punishing you for the mistakes of two people. Mable has to learn that someone won’t be watching her back forever.”

Despite my desperation, I narrow my eyes in suspicion.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He rolls his eyes and looks toward the ceiling.

“Oh, nothing, it’s just something for you to think about if you keep acting like this.”

The older guy walks forward and drags me toward the front door while the other one throws Mable in front of the couch we were just sitting on. He turns me to face the scene as the young guy ties Mable’s hands behind her back with a thick string. Who carries string around? Is this what these guys do for fun on a Friday night?

Once he finishes tying the string, he grabs the back of Mable’s head and slams it into the carpet. I lunge forward with so much force that the old man loses his grip on me. Before I can reach Mable my father jumps up and shoves me to the ground.

“You’ve had your share of abuse Krista, let Mable have some.”

“So you’re admitting that it’s abuse?” I snap at him.

He nods and smiles as if there’s nothing wrong with what he’s allowing, with what he’s done.

“Yes it’s very horrible abuse, torture even. But Krista, you’ll learn soon enough that adults have to make tough decisions. Decisions that never make sense in the present, but will all come together in the future. Why, I believe that you’ll thank me for this one day.”

I scream and jump up to attack him in any way with my bare hands. But the old guy grabs me from behind and slams me onto the ground in a faceplant. My father leans down with a calm expression.

“You see Krista... I know you have far more weaknesses than strengths. You act tough and protective, but you’re actually very, very, weak. Plus you’re helpless and defenseless. No one is going to save you; you’ll never escape this. I control your life. How does it feel to know that you’ll never explore the world? Never get to achieve your dreams? It feels great to me. Because while I’d prefer to trade you for a drink, I think I might enjoy this too much to let it end so soon.”

He looks up at the old guy and then the young one.

“Keep her held down; I need to get something. And Dan, go ahead and punish the little one. It’s about time she received a nice dose of pain.”

I scream and thrash, but there’s no point as the old guy digs his nails into my shoulder blade, right on a torn scar. He slams the side of my head into the ground to make sure I see Mable’s punishment.

The young guy- Dan, I guess, I don’t care- just starts punching her with all his strength. Within seconds, her lip is bleeding and he knocks a tooth out. My father’s mud-coated boot comes into my vision and he leans down so I can see what’s in his hand: a long pair of scissors.

“You know what I could do with these! Right, Krista?”

“Just stop hitting her!” I scream, ignoring the pain my father suggests.

“That’s right! I could take off all kinds of body parts, but I think I’d just rather hack open your back again. No point in letting that gorgeous work of art fade away!”

I keep my eyes glued to Mable.

“Just stop, please,” I whisper as tears collect on my eyelashes.

“Oh, alright, it’s always so annoying when a little girl cries.”

Dan finally stops and Mable falls to the ground. Her left eye is black and blood drips from her mouth. She’s passed out from the pain, and I’m sure I will too once they start working on me. 

I try to look up at my father from my position on the ground.

“Please, just let me help her and then I promise I’ll come back for my turn.”

He rolls his eyes and groans as if I’m a killjoy.

“Fine, but make it quick. You’ve got one minute.”

The old guy lets me go and I race to her side. Without a second’s hesitation, I pick her up and take her to our room. I lay her down as gently as possible and check to see which tooth had fallen out. Thankfully, it was one that was recently loose and no others are gone.

Her black eye is already beginning to swell and I have a feeling that her entire face will be bruised for a long time. But I feel slightly better if only that this means they won’t hurt her again.

I wince when I hear my father’s voice calling from the living room.

“Oh, Krista! Your time is up!”

That was definitely less than a minute. I sigh and give Mable a kiss on the forehead before turning to the door.

“Kr- Krista?” she whispers behind me. Her voice nearly brings tears back to my eyes and I turn to her. “D- Don’t g-go.”

“I’m going to get rid of those guys. Don’t worry.”

I give her hand a squeeze and lock the door before closing it. At least they won’t be able to get to her without damaging the house, and I know Father wouldn’t like that. No one destroys this house but him.

I walk back to the living room and nearly jump in surprise when only my father remains. He smirks and twirls the scissors between his fingers.

“I sent the boys home, I think they had enough fun for the night. It’s just you and me now.”

I bite my lip and nod, prepared to take my punishment. He stands up and walks toward me with a slow pace, his eerie smile spreading.

“I think we’ve had enough fun for the night too, so why don’t we just forget this and get some sleep?”

My eyes snap up and I pour as much hatred into my trembling voice as possible.

“I will  _ never _ forget what you did to her. And I will  _ never _ thank you for what you’ve done.”

He just smiles and my stomach twists. “There’s that little bit of courage you have, sweetheart.”

He tosses my long hair over my right shoulder, making sure he gets every strand. I wince at his touch. I hate how much he enjoys watching me squirm.

“Here, let’s put it behind us.”

Before I can move, he pulls me into a crushing hug and stabs my right shoulder with one of the scissor blades. I try to move but he only holds me tighter as he drags the blade down, easily tearing through the fabric of my shirt.

Once he reaches my hip, he shoves me into the wall and turns on his heel, wiping my blood on his shirt. He sits down on the couch with perfect poise and gives me a smile as I struggle to stand up.

“Try to get some sleep my dear girl, who knows what tomorrow will bring?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this age, the girls were able to get a couple pet sitting jobs from old friends of their family (who didn't care enough about them to question why their father was never with them).  
> Even simple dreams were too grand for Mable to imagine, they seemed like too much to ask for. Why dream when you don't even know if you'll live to see tomorrow?


	18. It's Not Love, It's L.O.V.E.

For some reason, I expect to wake up. A voice in the back of my head tells me this is all just a memory, and I’ll open my eyes to the present that isn’t any better than my past. But I don’t.

Instead, the shadows of my living room darken, and the flesh melts off my father’s face to reveal a skeleton that doesn’t look like a human’s. Its expression is unreadable as it shakes its head at me in disappointment.

The shadows consume the skeleton, and I suddenly feel like I’m falling down into a bottomless abyss. Mable’s cries echo in the distance as they mix with accusations whispering in my ears.

“ _ She’s dead because of you, _ ” they whisper.

“ _ You’re the reason he went insane. _ ”

“ _ If it weren’t for you, all of them would still be alive, including your mother _ .”

“ _ No one cares about you Krista, so why continue living? _ ”

I squeeze my eyes shut and don’t bother to cover my ears. They are all true, I’m just too afraid to admit it out loud. Everything I’ve done, everything I am, can be easily summed up with their words.

“ _ Worthless. Untrustworthy. Destructive. Weak _ .”

" _You don't matter! Just die. Just die! **Just die**!_

My eyes snap open and I hit the floor with a painful smack. It’s ice cold and I jump up to my feet without thinking. My entire body trembles, but I can’t tell if it’s because I’m shivering from the cold, or from the rush of adrenaline.

I look up and see him standing there with a clipboard and a pen. Amazingly enough, his expression actually looks slightly perplexed. I’m so glad I piqued his interest for once.

“What?” I ask, my voice sounding scratchy. Please don’t tell me I’ve been screaming. He just stares at me and I catch the hint.

“Oh wait I’m sorry, it does not ‘benefit you’ to tell me so I shouldn’t bother asking.”

I try to casually walk to the door but he holds a hand up and I freeze. And not just that I stop walking, but I’m  _ actually _ frozen. I try to move but nothing happens.

My SOUL appears and I see a distinct blue outline on it. I feel like I’ve seen him use this kind of magic before, but that was to move simple objects. I didn’t think he could take hold of a SOUL that way. That explains why he didn’t care that the appearance of my SOUL doesn’t hurt anymore. I’m still under his control.

“I am perfectly content with explaining what just happened to you, if you will  _ listen _ for once.”

He shoves me back and I stumble, biting my lip to keep from insulting him. This may be the only time he’ll actually  _ explain _ what the hell he’s trying to do with these freaky memory searches. 

“Originally I had just been viewing your memories to get a sense of who you are. I specifically targeted memories that you have thought about several times, as they are usually the most impactful on one’s personality. Towards the end of the memory you experienced today, I decided to target memories you have suppressed. However, your mind was so resistant that it morphed the memory into a dream that attacked some of your darkest thoughts.”

My eyebrows scrunch in confusion. My mind was so “resistant” that his fancy technology couldn’t override it? I find it hard to believe  _ that _ was the case.

“You know, we could’ve just sat down and had a nice Q&A instead of you getting in my head.”

“Do you truly believe you would have told me about those memories?”

“No, but I would’ve told you enough that you would understand who I am without watching memories that are  _ none of your business _ .”

He simply shrugs as if I wouldn’t be able to understand his reasons if he tried explaining them.

“And another thing, I refuse to believe that my stupid mind is ‘resistant’ enough to deny the wishes of your fancy tech.”

He smirks the tiniest bit. “I’m glad to see you didn’t take the bait.”

He writes something down on his clipboard. I completely ignore his comment since I’m sure he won’t fully explain that either.

“So do you mind telling me what actually happened?”

“Alright.” He tucks the pen away in his lab coat as if he’s preparing for a big speech. “I discovered that you have gained L.O.V.E., human.”

“Love?”

I’m beginning to believe that the reason I haven’t seen any other monsters is that he killed all of them with the sheer force of talking in nonsensical riddles.

“It stands for Level Of ViolencE.”

What a stupid way to form an acronym. “And that’s supposed to mean, what?”

“It means that you have severely hurt others around you enough to taint your SOUL. The most common form is murder, but another is to crush the spirit of someone close to you.”

My throat closes at the thought of how well I’ve accomplished both of those forms. It really is my fault that Father lost his Kindness, I certainly didn’t try to stop it.

The skeleton suddenly seems very amused. “I’ve been studying the effects of murder a monster’s SOUL for some time now. However, I have never had the opportunity to specifically study a  _ human _ .”

My stomach twists, there is no way I’m telling him what I’ve done to become a murderer. Although I guess it’s too bad that he doesn’t care if I protest. He’ll know eventually.

“Tell me, why have you waited this long when you’ve had several opportunities?”

“What?”

“Killing inspires a greater resolve to survive, a strength that makes it harder for others to hurt you and easier for you to hurt others. So tell me, why haven’t you tried to escape?”

I shake my head and cross my arms over my chest. I’ll play his game. “It does not benefit me in any way if I reveal that information to you.”

“I was just checking to see if you would cooperate, no surprise that you won’t when there is no threat. I’m beginning to believe that stubbornness is a personality trait you only use when you feel you have some control over the situation.”

I roll my eyes. Oh he knows me  _ sooooo well _ .

“My suspicions are that you refuse to even attempt escape because you believe you deserve this.” All of my bravado disappears as he regains complete control over the situation. “Reminders of your failures, pain you’ve never experienced, social isolation, all factors that you endure simply because of your guilt.”

I’m tempted to act as if his words don’t interest me, but I’m suddenly afraid he knows more than he’s revealing.

“Guilt over what?”

“The deaths of everyone you’ve cared about. Don’t act like I can’t piece it together. Just two memories and I already have a complete picture of who you are. My only wonder is who you killed to taint your SOUL. It must have been two people, but who were they?”

My fingers twitch into fists; he  _ definitely _ has no right to make me relive what happened just two weeks ago.

“You’re going to have to rip that information out of me.”

The tiniest bit of amusement that was hidden in his voice disappears.

“I have no problem with that, but for today, I’m done with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaster intentionally searched for the darker parts of her mind rather than memories she had suppressed. The bait was just another way to see how low of an opinion she has of herself. (If she had ignored it then she would be non-verbally admitting that she has some confidence in herself.)  
> A fearful, self-loathing, damaged little human is the best deal he could've asked for...


	19. An Addition To The Collection

Once his footsteps fade down the hallway, I lock myself in the bathroom and turn on the sink’s faucet. While the rest of my body is practically shivering, it feels like my head is burning up. I can’t tell if it’s stress or fear, but I need to cool off before I start punching the walls. Thankfully the water is freezing and I stick my head under the faucet, not caring that all my hair is getting soaked.

I expected him to be nonchalant about my pain, but his passive expressions with hints of amusement as he talked about my guilt really make me want to hurt him. Of course he has the power in this situation, but I’d rather die than re-experience how it felt to kill Mable. I don’t care what physical torture I have to endure or remember; Mable’s death is worse than all of them put together.

I turn off the faucet and look up at the mirror. It’s hard to see the details of my face when the only light is above the shower behind me, but I can see enough to know that this place is already wearing on me.

My eyes are slightly bloodshot and my hair is a tangled mess. I’ve had to start wearing the same shirts since I only packed seven, all wrinkled and losing the scent of home. My jeans are in the same condition, and my socks are too thin to keep my feet warm against the freezing ground. 

Of course, he’s been slowly taking away everything else I originally had with me. As if he’s only  _ now _ realizing that I could use them as weapons. First the lighter, then my boots, and then the little bit of food I had left (like  _ that _ would hurt him). All I have left are clothes and the two books. Well and also Mable’s locket, thankfully.

I wonder if he planned to slowly take away all I had, as if to show how helpless I am. Or has he already known for the past week that I possess a “Level Of ViolencE?” Does he actually see me as a  _ threat _ ? Is that why I want to hurt him all of a sudden? Because it gets easier the more you kill? 

No, I refuse to believe I’m  _ that _ evil. But maybe he really isn’t talking in riddles when he says that violence taints the SOUL. I’ve definitely learned how crucial the SOUL is to a personality. I don’t want to end up like my father.

Maybe that SOUL book can tell me about that. One thing’s for sure, it’s already far more informative than the history one.

I’m about to open the door when I hear voices whispering to my left. My head snaps to the side and my eyes trail up above the shower where they are the loudest. There’s a large vent painted the same green as the rest of the wall. Huh, I never noticed that before, even though the vent looks big enough for me to fit inside.

My grip tightens around the doorknob as I try to bury my curiosity. But it’s so tempting. I’ve finally found a way out! And I wasn’t even trying to find it!

But what if this is a trap? Is it bait that leads me into another experiment?

_ Who cares? Just go for it! _

Well I’m not really trying to escape anyway; I just want to know what those voices are saying. If I happen to find a way out then there’s no real harm done.

I comb out my hair the best I can with my fingers and braid it back, might as well get it out of the way if I’m going to be climbing through a vent.

I jump up on vanity and face the shower, searching for an easy path to the vent. However, the only way across is probably considered dangerous in the eyes of an adult. Thankfully though, there isn’t much distance between the vanity and the shower.

I reach across and grab the slightly stable top of the shower and put one foot on the freezing metal. I take a deep breath and push my other foot off the vanity and nearly fall to the ground before ungracefully regaining my balance. I guess this is what birds feel like when they perch on wires, scared to no end.

I reach my left foot to the far side of the shower and lean forward so my hands are on either side of the vent. Oh great, I forgot to think about how I’d actually get the cover off the wall.

There are four screws holding each corner securely into the wall, and by the looks of it, haven’t been touched in years. All I can use are my fingernails that are too long for my liking, hopefully they’ll work.

With four broken nails that I’ll never cry over and what feels like thirty minutes later, I finally get all of the screws out. I shove each of them in my pocket and gently work the cover off the wall. Once I get it off, I place it on its side inside the vent so there’s just enough room for me.

Whatever monster that designed the vent must’ve been three times my size because I fit comfortably, even next to the cover. Granted, I’m 4’11 and considerably tiny from a human’s perspective too.

The whispers continue as I begin the crawl through the surprisingly clean vent. I swear is dust just nonexistent in this place? Not that I’m complaining or anything.

The vent darkens the farther I travel until everything is completely pitch black. My stomach twists as I fear ramming into a wall or hitting a dead end without realizing it. The only solution I can think of is to reach forward as much as possible and hope I’ll feel a wall if there’s one in front of me.

While I’m sure I’m passing openings to other rooms on either side of me, there’s really no point in exploring them when I can’t see anything. I should’ve done this before my lighter was taken.

Of course, it only takes about a minute before I slam into a wall, so much for my clever idea. 

I look to my left and nearly jump when I spot a faint light towards the end of the vent. Well, at least I can see now.

When I reach the end of the vent row, I turn right and see an opening on the left side at the far end. There is the faintest light pulsing through its slats, but it’s nearly overpowered by another light. 

Towards the center of my row, there is a section branching off on the right side that looks to be a different one. The light that shines from it looks like it’s coming from an opening very close to the beginning of the row.

Should I see what it is? The whispers have become more intense to the point that I can almost make out complete words. But they seem to be coming from the end of my row, and not the one with the bright light.

I try to come up with a good reason to avoid the brighter light, but my curiosity doesn’t care as I crawl to it. I make a right turn and see it’s barely a row since the opening is about a foot away from the main one.

I peek through the slats and almost leap back when I see him sitting at a desk piled high with stacks of papers.

Thankfully, his back is turned to me, and he actually seems to be a little stressed based on how he’s holding his head, if that’s even possible.

Amongst the stacks of papers are three computers that each display different graphs. I squint to see if I can make out the text, but it’s too small to read. 

Hmm, I guess I wouldn’t understand what it meant anyway. Unless it outright said that his experiments are just meant to torture humans with their own minds.

He writes something down on the paper in front of him and tosses the pen to the side with a sigh.

“It will never work at this pace,” he mutters bitterly.

Wow, so he has a temper  _ and _ he talks to himself. Good to know. I smirk knowing that I now have information about him without asking for permission, just like he does for me.

My smirk transfers into a burst of fear when music starts to play so loud I can’t even hear the whispers. 

I notice it’s coming from a phone when he picks it up from the end of his desk. Interesting that his ringtone almost sounds like a quirky pop song that teenagers would like instead of a standard telephone sound. Maybe he’s got more personality than he’s leading me to believe. That or someone hacked his phone as a prank and he’s too old to know how to change the settings. I seriously can’t tell.

“Yes, Dr. Alphys?”

I raise an eyebrow at how much nicer his voice sounds. I mean, it still sounds pretty much the same, but there’s just that hint of softness I’ve never heard before. But of course, why would he ever use it with me?

“The Core? Yes, just schedule the meeting for whenever His Majesty can discuss it.”

Hmm, so there’s a king who rules the monsters? Good to know there’s someone above him, although I’m sure he’s far worse than a scientist.

“Now?” he sighs. “No it’s fine, I can do it. Tell him I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

He hangs up and shuts down his computers without another word. 

I’m guessing he only mildly respects whoever was on the other end of that phone. But hey, that was a thousand times nicer than the way I get treated.

He grabs a few of the papers and stalks out of the room, making sure to flip off the light. The sudden darkness makes the light from the other room much brighter and I crawl to the opening that leads into it.

I only worry for a split second that he’ll notice I’m gone when I remember I left the door locked. Although, I’m sure he won’t even bother to walk past my cell, I’m just a helpless human after all.

I peer through the slanted metal of the vent opening and search for whoever’s whispering. It only takes a second for me to find what I’m looking for, and it causes me to I leap back in horror. I smack my head against the ceiling and immediately regret it when the noise travels down the rest of the vent system. Hopefully he won’t hear that.

I crawl back to the opening and stare through the strips of metal blocking my access into the room. I cover my mouth with my hand when I get a better look into the room. I am staring at my fate.

The room is fairly small, but every inch of its walls are taken up with charts, pictures, and what I assume to be formulas. The wall directly across from me and the one my vent is connected to both have short desks filled with beakers and other equipment I can’t name. The right wall is empty except for a door in the center, one I’m betting is probably locked. But none of that concerns me when it comes to the desk on the left wall. Instead of equipment, there are four glass tubes resting side by side, each containing a different colored human SOUL.

The SOUL on the far left is yellow, then dark blue, light green, and finally, cyan. But there’s something… off about the SOULs. There’s a slight gray tint to them.

While their whispers are much louder, I can’t make out anything they’re saying. It’s as if I’m listening to rushing water rather than hearing the individual drops.

Maybe I can talk to them? Can people communicate through SOULs? Are these actually other humans down here, and he’s just temporarily taken away their SOULs?

I stare at the vent’s opening and try to decide the best way to get out without making noise. Although I’m pretty sure he’s gone by now.

I reach my hand through the metal slats and just barely reach the screw at the bottom left corner. Now comes the tricky part, six nails and four screws. I think I can do it.

I get the first screw out and put it in my other pocket so I don’t mix the new ones up with the screws from the first vent. I get the second and third out with only two nails breaking, thankfully. Right before I think the fourth screw is completely out, it falls and clangs against a beaker. I bite my lip and grab the vent opening, gently placing it next to me.

I look down and see that even if I hang onto the opening, there will still be about a foot between me and the table. That’s okay, as long as I don’t crush anything.

I spot two openings on the table and lower myself down until I’m hanging onto the vent by my fingertips. I try to aim as best I can and let go without any second thoughts.

My feet smack against the table, and I thankfully don’t lose my balance for once. I cautiously step over the equipment and jump to the floor. When I stand up I realize that the SOULs aren’t whispering anymore. Can they tell I’m here?

“Hello?” I whisper, not sure how else to start a conversation with them. 

I reach the table in three steps and cautiously tap the glass tube of the light green SOUL.

“What are you doing?” a harsh, masculine voice demands. I jump back from the table and whip around to face the door, fearing the worst. Only, there’s no one.

I turn back to the SOULs and see the yellow one shining brighter than it was before.

“Yes I’m asking you, little Perseverant,” the voice says angrily.

The yellow SOUL’s light dims once the voice stops. 

“So you can talk,” I whisper.

“We can also kill you too, so you’d better start explaining yourself,” the same voice says.

“Will you shut up Justin? It’s clear the poor girl’s scared out of her mind and you’re no help when you’re yelling like that.”

This time, the dark blue SOUL lights up. I don’t know why I’m surprised that its voice sounds like an eleven year old girl. Well, probably because she called  _ me _ a girl, like I’m much younger than her by decades.

“I’m just trying to protect us,” the yellow- Justin- says.

“And I thank you for that, but it’s obvious that it’s not him, we’re safe,” the blue one continues.

“Yeah no, I’m definitely not him,” I try to say casually, but it comes off as fearful. 

Why am I afraid of simply mentioning him out loud?

“I’m sorry about Justin, it’s just that he’s been down here the longest and he’s developed an extreme case of anxiety,” the blue one says.

Justin is about to protest when the blue one cuts him off.

“And of course, I don’t blame him for that.”

I don’t blame him either since I’m pretty sure this place has amplified my already existing anxiety.

“Soooo, are you guys physically in other rooms right now? Can you connect to your SOUL like looking through another set of eyes?”

I jump when they all start laughing, even the ones that haven’t spoken yet.

When they finally calm down Justin’s voice takes on a serious tone. “Our physical bodies have been dead for centuries.”

“What?” I ask, my voice growing with fear.

“We can’t even remember the lives we had before this place. It’s just been an endless cycle of different scientists finding ways to experiment on us. I vaguely remember a few of them being nice, but never nice enough to let us go. The only constant this whole time has been  _ him _ .”

“But, you remember your names right? What about the memory tests? Did they erase your memories?”

Panic is rising in my voice as I imagine being trapped down here for centuries. I refuse to accept that fate.

“We only call each other nicknames either based on our SOUL traits or colors,” the blue one says. “Speaking of which, we haven’t been properly introduced,” her voice suddenly sounds excited. I guess they haven’t met someone new in years, decades at least.

I’d rather talk about what they’ve been through and try to figure a way to get us all out. I may deserve to be punished, but centuries does sound like a bit much. 

I bite my tongue and wish I could take back those thoughts. Of course, a million lifetimes of this still isn’t enough punishment for what I’ve done. I turn my attention back to the SOULs, they deserve respect, even if it’s just from someone like me.

“So my name is Blue, for obvious reasons. This is Justin because his SOUL trait is Justice so it’s pretty much a play on words. That’s Basil, just because I vaguely remember that name is connected to something green. And on the end there is Patience because hey, it’s a nice, fitting name.”

I can’t help but smile a little at how even though they don’t remember anything about who they once were, they’ve been able to create new identities together, almost as a family of sorts. Although, despite it seeming like a cute thing, it’s actually horribly sad, and I don’t want to know what it feels like.

“So what’s your name?” a new voice asks. My vision snaps to the cyan SOUL on the far right. While Patience’s tone sounds nothing like Mable’s, the innocence and fear in her voice is exactly like my sister’s. Patience couldn’t have been more than six when she fell underground, and now that innocence is meant to waste away in a dark prison. 

“Oh! I know! We could call you Amethyst!” Blue exclaims.

I immediately shake my head in disgust, not because I hate the name, but because I refuse to forget who I am this early. Although, it actually seems like he’s  _ helping _ me remember who I am. Could it be that he’s actually one of the nicer scientists to have tested humans?

“What do you think?” Blue asks.

I shake my head again before I wonder if they can even see. I mean, Blue knew I was a girl and she could tell I was scared. I’ll just have to ask them eventually.

“Uh no, I’d rather be called by my real name. I don’t want to forget it anytime soon.”

Justin scoffs and I give his SOUL a quick glare. Wow, I never actually thought I’d do something that in my life, but it’s pretty clear now that stranger things will always happen.

“You might as well forget it now because it’ll happen eventually.”

“Yeah well, we’ll see how long it takes to get to ‘eventually’ and then you can call me whatever you like, how does that sound?”

Blue laughs and I think I hear a giggle from Patience.

“Don’t lose that spirit girl, it’ll keep you alive down here when nothing else will,” Blue says in a suddenly serious tone.

“So what is it?” the final voice asks, the light green SOUL, Basil. I’m guessing he was about seven or eight when he fell. My heart suddenly aches when I think about these kids, how their lives have been cut far too short. Even Justin, who sounds about sixteen, lost a life that was probably worth living, and now he doesn’t even remember it.

“Krista,” I say with all the confidence and pride I can muster. “My name is Krista.”

“Well then Krista,” Blue says, “welcome to the monsters’ collection of human SOULs.”

I wince at her tone, because it tells me the truth of what this actually means. 

I will never leave this hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaster always knows when Alphys is calling! (She insisted that he should at least have the instrumental version of the Mew Mew Kissy Cutie theme song for a ringtone.)  
> The kids can see their surroundings, Blue just wanted an explanation for Krista's reaction.


	20. Nothing More Than Meaningless Repeats

I bite my lip and shake my head. Of course I’ll never leave this place, what did I expect? It’s the best punishment I could ever ask for. So, why I can’t I shake this…  _ need _ to survive? Is it because that’s what Mable would want? For me to forgive myself and forget? It was  _ him _ who forced me to do it. But still…  _ I’m _ the one who pulled the trigger, and no amount of excuses or justifications can change that.

“Krista? Are you okay?” Basil asks.

I look up and shake my head, a useless attempt to clear it.

“Of course, sorry it’s just that I’m not used to meeting new people.”

I wince at the word  _ people _ since they’re more like tortured, lost children.

“Oh, don’t be shy! We like you already!” Blue exclaims.

“Well, not all of us,” Justin mumbles.

I’m sure if she could punch him in the arm, she would, but instead she yells so loud I’m afraid the people on the Surface can hear her.

“Hey! She is our new friend and you will treat her with the same love and respect you give us!”

The room becomes deathly silent as I notice that Blue suddenly looks more gray than when I first saw her SOUL. Justin finally speaks up, his voice timid and soft.

“Alright, I’m sorry Blue. I didn’t mean it. You know I’m just protective of you guys and… I don’t want us to become gray any sooner than we’re meant to.”

I think Blue sniffles the tiniest bit before her SOUL almost fades back to its original blue-gray color. Only, more gray outlines her than before. 

I wait a few seconds before asking them the questions I’m now dying to know. I don’t want to be rude, but my curiosity has gained some serious control over me in the past couple weeks.

“So, no offense but, what’s it like to be just a SOUL?” I ask gently.

“It’s a living hell,” Justin whispers scornfully.

“It’s like being trapped in a collapsing building,” Basil says.

“How?” I ask, stepping closer to their table.

“Well, we can’t move at all. We just helplessly watch the world around us with no way of fighting back. So metaphorically, all our exits are blocked off and we have no way out of this building. And it’s collapsing because we’re slowly, painfully, dying. As time passes, our SOULs become grayer and we lose our traits. First our bodies go, then our memories, then our traits, and finally, our entire existence.”

Basil says it all with an indifferent tone, as if he’s reading it out of a textbook. It’s just pure, commonly known facts, nothing more.

“So you didn’t begin to turn gray when you were physically alive? How do people turn gray if they have physical form? If some SOULs are lighter in color does that mean they’re more likely to lose their trait? Is that why some are weaker than others? Why do SOULs with the same trait have different shades of the color that trait is associated with? Does that factor into their strength?” 

I wish I didn’t have any more to ask, but the questions just burst out of me. There’s too much I want to know, and it’s obvious that I won’t get it from You-Know-Who unless it suits him.

Basil laughs the tiniest bit before saying, “I think it’s best that Blue and Justin answer those.”

I turn to them and Justin sighs, as if he’s had to explain my questions a million times, which actually doesn’t sound like too much of an exaggeration.

“No, we didn’t begin to turn gray until years after we’d technically died. In a normal case of human death, our SOULs are only able to last for about seven minutes before our existence completely perishes and moves on. Unfortunately for us, the scientists had developed some way of preserving our SOULs in these tubes, prolonging our ‘shelf-life’ as one may call it. But thankfully they can’t really experiment so much on us as we grow older, since whenever we are removed from these tubes it’s possible to turn gray in seconds. That happened to a handful of friends I had, lucky kids.”

“You didn’t… mourn them?”

Justin scoffs so harshly I wince.

“Hell no! That’s every human’s dream once the scientists get you, especially when they keep you locked up for centuries. If we have to choose between boring immortality and the sweet release of death, I’d like to die please!”

My heart aches when I realize what he’s implying: he wants me to kill them all.

It would be easy, right? Just break the glass tubes and say goodbye, a happy ending. But then, is it considered murder, even if they want you to do it?

Blue clears her throat. “But of course we’re not asking that of you. I wouldn’t want to put such a heavy burden on anybody.”

I can’t tell if she’s being genuine, or just trying to be nice. Either way I’m thankful that they don’t directly ask me.

“So what else did you ask?”

“Um, just-”

“Oh yeah! Sorry Krista, but I don’t know how people can lose their trait while still living. I’ve actually never heard of that before. But I can tell you that the experiments have been different for all of us. You mentioned something about ‘memory tests’ right?”

I nod and Blue glows a bit brighter than before.

“Interesting, I’ve never heard of those. What were they like?”

I try to think of a description that would keep them from asking questions about my life but I know there’s no point.

“They just targeted memories that I’ve thought over so many times that they’re considered some of the most important events of my life. I think they show the truest forms of my personality or something like that.”

“Interesting,” is all Blue says.

“But, how does that benefit the scientist?” Patience asks.

“Who knows why, but all that tells me is that Krista is living in luxury while the rest of us have suffered,” Justin snaps.

“Justin!” Blue yells.

“Well it’s true!” he yells back.

I hold my tongue, knowing that contradicting his claim would only create questions I definitely don’t want to answer.

“Krista, is it true?” Blue demands.

I pick my words carefully. “Well, let’s just say he didn’t pick very happy memories,” I say lightly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Justin scoffs.

His negativity is really starting to get to me.

“It means that my life has not been all sunshine and rainbows as you may believe.”

The bite in my tone makes them dim and I take a deep breath, not wanting to insult the only allies I’ll probably ever find down here.

“Sorry, but I’m being serious when I say that I have hated this entire experience with every fiber of my being. The memories I had to relive… they belong buried in the past, along with the people they contain.”

That truth hurts the more I think about it.

Justin sighs, “Alright, I’m sorry too. There isn’t one luxurious thing this place could ever offer.”

We sit in silence for a moment, a calm respite in the face of our impending doom. That is, of course, until my questions come back.

“Do you guys have any ideas as to what the scientists have been trying to figure out?”

Justin finally speaks up after a long pause.

“It’s the Barrier that keeps all the monsters trapped underground; they’re trying to find some way to destroy it.”

“How do you think they’ll do it?”

“In theory, seven humans created it, so seven human SOULs should be able to break it, right?”

I nod.

“Well, that’s not the whole case. You see, while I only remember glimpses of my life as a person, I sharply remember the final moments before my death. I saw the Barrier and the king of the monsters. In front of me were seven glass tubes, five were empty and two were filled. One contained an orange SOUL, and the other a yellow. Now if you add those two with the five of us, that’d be seven SOULs, so what are they waiting for?”

I raise an eyebrow, I have no clue.

“It’s because they need one of every color in order to break the Barrier, just like how it was sealed with one of each trait. I’d say it is genius how those wizards designed it, who knows how long the monsters will have to wait?”

He chuckles, but no one joins him.

“But, why were those SOULs left at the Barrier? Why are you guys down here?”

“Those are the questions, indeed.”

It makes me a little nervous to hear how excited Justin is from this discussion. 

“You see, those of us down here, are repeats. Once the monsters realized that they needed one of every color, they decided to find other uses for worthless SOULs, and thus created the centuries of torture for us to endure.”

“But, wouldn’t they want to replace the old SOULs with the new ones? So they wouldn't have a bunch of grays by the time the last color fell?” 

“That sounds like the logical choice, right? But the reason they don’t is because those SOULs were never touched or experimented on. If a SOUL is never tampered with by anyone (as long as it’s kept in its tube), or if it never comes in contact with another human, then it can stay the same color for centuries. The human spirit that once possessed that SOUL will remain dormant, until they’re disturbed. When the SOUL comes in contact with another human, they can simply communicate, which a monster will never hear. But when the human SOUL is in contact with a monster, the monster can easily control it and force the SOUL to do whatever they command.”

Wow, I’m suddenly even more scared for my future, if that’s even a possibility by now.

Blue suddenly chimes in. “I think the monsters are afraid that using a newer SOUL would also go against the unspoken laws of the Barrier. Meaning that only the first SOULs of that color are worthy of being used, just like the wizards.”

Despite my increase in fear, I smile, finally glad to have some answers. Which also begs the question…

“How do you know all this?”

Justin laughs. “How do you think? From years of eavesdropping on concerned scientists who were so hopeful they could find quick loopholes that would magically transport them out of here.”

I smirk at the irony in that, all their power and they are the victims of time. Which reminds me, how long have I been talking with them? I start inching toward the vent, but ask one more question while we’re still on the topic.

“Do you know how many SOULs they have now?”

Patience’s shy voice rises above Justin’s.

“I was the most recent repeat, aside from you. I saw that they had every color, except for red.”

“And that’s the strongest one,” I whisper.

“And the rarest,” Basil pipes up.

“How long do you think that’ll take?” I ask.

“I hope I’m long gone before I see it,” Justin says in a serious tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to think that there were many more than just eight humans who fell Underground for the centuries the monsters were trapped. The SOULs of the repeats were used for other purposes...  
> While some of the kids were able to make it all the way to Asgore, others (like Krista) were found before they could even make it to the Ruins.  
> I think they are the only humans who actually believe that the monsters have much more power than them.


	21. Life Lesson Of The Day

I say goodbye to my newfound friends and find the screw I dropped earlier before jumping up into the vent. Thankfully, I don’t knock anything off the table. I screw the vent cover back on just enough that it’ll be fairly easy to remove whenever I come back.

I make my way through the darkness and eventually reach my room. Now comes the tricky part.

I follow every step I originally took, only backwards with a few close calls, and eventually hit the ground safely. Well that was certainly an adventure, one that I hope he’ll never know about.

I head back into the main room and sigh in relief when I see that the hallway lights have been dimmed. Good sign, he must’ve decided that going straight home for the night would be better than coming back here to terrorize me a little more. It gives me more time to read that book about SOULs, even though I realize just how exhausted I am. 

I might as well since I know for certain he’s not here, and I have the SOULs’ information fresh in my mind.

I walk over to my duffel bag and notice the only book sitting on top of my clothes is the history one. That’s weird; I thought I left the other one there too. I search through the rest of my bag and only find the rest of my clothes, no book.

Where the hell is it? 

I scan the rest of my tiny room and find nothing on the spotless floors. 

Did he take it? He must’ve. And more importantly,  _ when _ did he take it? Did he hear me talking with the SOULs? Or crawling in the vents?

He did look a little worried when he saw the book in my hands. Is there something in it he doesn’t want me to know? That must be it, right?

Well there’s nothing I can do now except, try to sleep I guess. But the second I lay down I know I’m in for a long night, despite my earlier exhaustion.

I can’t help but wonder what is in that book that he wouldn’t want me to know. Does it explain different techniques in using magic that could make me dangerous? Maybe I should’ve read that book first.

My mind starts to wonder how Mable would’ve reacted to all this. I bet she’d like Blue, Basil, and Patience. And she’d try to be friends with Justin no matter how negative he would’ve been towards her. I’m not sure what she’d think about the scientist; she’d probably just act the same way she did with our father, plead and cower. I hate describing her that way but it’s true, I once did the same thing anyway.

I lightly smack my head against the makeshift bed; I should stop thinking about her. Sooner or later I’ll have a meltdown about it, but until then, it’s best to keep the grief bottled up. I should focus on the real issues anyway.

For one, it seems that the four of them had the privilege to meet the king, but that was before the scientists got them. I guess that was so long ago that there wasn’t a camera planted at the bottom of the mountain’s entrance. So then, did these kids explore the Underground? Did they meet other monsters? I wonder if they were nice, or were they the same as the scientists?

I’d like to think most monsters are good; the history book seemed to favor them. Or have they all become negative because of what we’ve done to them? I’m sure living without sunshine for your entire life can really make someone angry. I know I can say I already miss the morning sunrises and the afternoon breezes. Well, the few sunrises I’ve seen considering I’ve never been a fan of mornings, Matt could vouch for me.

Matt… I wonder how he’s doing. My heart aches when I remember telling him I’d be at work the next morning. It’s as if I let him down, or broke a promise I swore to keep. I suddenly realize how much I miss him, remembering the way he’d always wink at me before saying goodbye, or how he’d always have a positive attitude, no matter the situation. Looking back on how he treated me, I think I can honestly say he was a friend, my only friend. 

Did he find out what I did? Would he ever listen to me if I tried to explain? He’d probably think I’ve gone crazy, and I honestly wouldn’t blame him either. I mean seriously, how did I even survive that fall? It’s impossible! Unless, there’s some sort of magic force field or something that prevents random humans from squashing their SOULs so the monsters can use them. That’s probably it.

I think I drift off at some point, but I’m wide awake when the lights come back on. I jump up and smooth my hair out, preparing to confront him. I should probably plan a short speech or something just to annoy him enough that he’ll give me my book. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned about him, he hates when humans talk too much. Or maybe it’s just me.

When he shows up a minute later, the sight of what he carries stuns me into silence. In one hand he holds my book, and in the other is a ceramic plate with a sandwich on it.

He turns off the lasers and shoves the two in my direction. I cautiously grab my book, but keep staring at the sandwich.

“What no more granola?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you want it or not?” he snaps.

Wow, someone’s in a bad mood. But I don’t argue as I snatch the plate without another word. He immediately turns the lasers back on and walks down the hallway.

“Hey, wait!” I yell after him.

He doesn’t stop and I roll my eyes. Of course, why would I expect an explanation?

While I want to search the book, the sandwich is far too tempting. Especially after about two and half weeks of one granola bar a day, I must say peanut butter and jelly has never tasted so good. If I had a peanut allergy, I'd definitely yell at him for giving me inedible food.

I shove the plate to the side and quickly flip through the book. It seems untouched until I get to the end and find about fifteen pages ripped out. So they must’ve held some pretty dangerous facts if he thought that his  _ prisoner _ could use them against him. I wonder why my father didn’t use any of the tricks that must’ve been in those pages. Well, probably because the one that even  _ I _ now know was so effective.

I flip back to the beginning and look over the chart of SOULs, memorizing each trait that associates with the colors. They all seem to be key virtues that everyone should possess, but then does that mean you can’t have the others? Or does it mean that the virtue you have is just the most influential in your personality?

I look below the chart and see text I didn’t notice last time.

_ While all of these traits are necessary for humans to possess, the trait associated with their color is the most noticeable in their actions and personality. _

Hmm, it seems I was right. I turn to the next page and see the first section that describes the Patience trait.

_ Patience, indeed a very important virtue. It weighs its options, and observes the whole picture before deciding what to do. Even if it knows what it wants, it will wait until the opportune moment to receive its desires. This power is most certainly unique, as it is practically the antithesis for all other traits. Bravery ignores all possibilities in the face of danger, Justice leaps before it looks, Determination thinks itself above consequences, but Patience is wiser than that. _

_ It is one of the strongest traits in the face of making decisions, but ultimately weak in all other categories. For Patience would prefer to talk through a conflict rather than fight its way toward a resolution. This is why its magical strength is the lowest, along with the factor that it has a heavy reliance on others with stronger traits. While Patience may be the decision maker of the group, it is certainly not the leader. _

The rest of the page is filled with statistics that I’m sure are extremely outdated, ranging from the average number of people who possess Patience to the ratio of poor to rich who have it, like that matters.

Although it’s interesting that the book claims most people are likely to possess Patience, despite it being the weakest SOUL. The rest of Patience’s section explains why weaker traits are more likely to be inherited than the stronger ones.

_ This is the case because SOUL traits are determined by a human’s entire ancestry rather than just one’s parents. This is why it is believed that the first humans possessed weaker traits, and within a short time the stronger traits developed.  _

_ The inheritance of traits is usually very random, as it has been seen in larger families. The first few children will commonly possess their parents’ traits, although this probability is not definite.  _

_ When it comes to families of five or six, there is usually at least one Patience or Kindness SOUL simply because of genetics, even if both parents possess the Determination trait. This simply enforces the idea that while Patience is the weakest trait, it is the most commonly inherited. _

So, if I had another sibling, would they have a trait like Integrity or Bravery? Or I guess Patience because it’s super common. Even though I don’t think it matters nowadays, or at least on the Surface it doesn’t. According to my new friends it’s practically a status symbol down here.

I’m about to read the next section on Kindness when I hear footsteps down the hall. I toss the book into my bag and jump up to my feet, big mistake.

I almost instantly fall over when my vision turns black and I hit the ground. I’ve never felt like this, not even after the memory tests. I suddenly feel exhausted as my eyes shut against my will. This is definitely not because I didn’t sleep much last night.

Never trust a skeleton when he offers you a sandwich, life lesson of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Krista's going to have a decent amount of reflecting on her past during chapters that I would say are more 'informative' than action-oriented (I'm pretty detailed in some of the upcoming chapters just because I know I'd have several questions too [plus, how else could she pass the time?]).   
> Some of the Patience description was inspired by a comment written by Birdofterror on this video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xNRajH4RMe8 (even though there's not too much information I used, I always want to give credit when it is due)  
> I wonder what those pages were about...  
> (Don't take the lesson to heart Krista, surely not all skeletons could be so untrustworthy...)


	22. Time Flies

When I open my eyes, the lights in the hallway are dim. Have I been out for a whole day? Or was it longer? I hope the massive headache suggests I only hit the floor really hard rather than it meaning a week has passed. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling, trying to let my eyes adjust.

When they finally do, I notice a tiny camera in the center of the ceiling. 

Really? He couldn’t have just locked me in another room to install it? No, it was easier to give me a horrendous headache?

Even though I’m pretty sure he’s not watching, I hold up my middle finger to the camera. Take that you creepy jerk! Witness the power of an angry teenage girl!

I drop my arm and cover my eyes. This headache is probably going to last a while. I’m not sure if I want to even  _ attempt _ reading.  

After probably an hour of trying any way to not worsen my headache, the lights come back on. Normally, I’d jump up in preparation, but right now all I can do is continue massaging my temples.

It takes about ten minutes before I finally hear his footsteps down the hallway. Someone’s a little late today; normally he’d show up immediately, throw me a granola bar and forget about me until the next day. Which is fine with me, I’m used to being ignored.

I continue to stare at the ceiling even when I hear him stop, but I make sure to point a finger in his direction.

“You sir, are definitely not a nice guy.”

“Do you have anything else to say?”

I finally look at him and am almost shocked to see he’s not wearing his lab coat for once, just a simple gray shirt and black pants. I’m assuming those are his favorite colors.

I also notice he’s meticulously placed his hands behind his back, as if he’s hiding something.

“Yeah, like why couldn’t you have just locked me in another room? I would have cooperated with only a handful of remarks. And another thing, how dare you lace a sandwich with drugs that give me such a horrible headache, I could send you to court for that.”

One of his eye sockets lift, like a person would when raising an eyebrow.

“Oh don’t give me that look; I’ve already mentally sued you for child abuse. And I guess I should also include the fact that you’ve stolen half my stuff by now, including my book that wasn’t hurting anyone.”

I sigh and look back up at the ceiling, damn it, he knew talking would make my headache even worse.

I hear the lasers turn off and some shuffling on the floor. By the time I turn my head he’s in the same position as before, only there’s a huge drawstring bag sitting inside my cell.

“What’s this?” I ask.

“You will not be seeing me for the next few weeks. There are other projects that require immediate attention, and you would just be an annoying chore to remember.”

“Well thanks,” I say sitting up slowly and dragging the bag towards me. Inside I find a handful of granola bars and some water bottles, as to be expected. Only, amazingly, there are other foods like apples, a few cups of instant noodles, and even cinnamon rolls. I can’t help but raise an eyebrow at him, what’s with the treats all of a sudden?

“Are you going on vacation or something? Am I just that exhausting to take care of?”

His eyes narrow in annoyance. “I do not need to explain myself to you.”

“Well then if I’m going to be alone for that long then can I at least have a bigger room? I swear this one’s going to make me claustrophobic.”

“I think you can find ways to entertain yourself long enough that you’ll ignore the size of the room.”

He nods to the bag, and I notice a black notebook buried at the bottom. I pull it out and see a silver, handwritten title on the cover that says  _ Basic Skills and Forms of Human Magic _ . Wow, what a clever mind he must have to write such a unique title. 

“While each human SOUL trait has its own unique power, there are some... elementary skills that all of them possess. I want you to be able to wield these skills by the time I see you in a few weeks.”

“Are you serious?”

I’m not a magician! Why do I need to know how to do that? Oh yeah, to help whatever insane plan he has. And I guess to be fair, he did help me with the whole summoning my SOUL thing. But other than that I can honestly say I’m still not comfortable with anything magic related.

His expression darkens, and I know I’ve pushed my luck too far.

“Yes, I am  _ dead serious _ , and if you do not have those skills in exactly three weeks from now, there will be  _ devastating _ consequences.”

My stomach tightens and I know I shouldn’t ask, but I can’t help it. “Can you give me a calendar?”

Did I see the faintest smirk?

“If it’s the only thing that will keep you from failing, then fine, you can have one. But you better start practicing  _ now _ if you have any hope of succeeding.”

My eyes drop to the notebook and I open it to the first page, pretending to read. I wait a few seconds after I hear him walk away and then toss the notebook to the side. If he thinks I’d rather study than eat, he is sorely mistaken.

I dump out the contents of the bag and separate them into five groups before counting how much there are in each one. Twenty-one water bottles, three red apples, ten granola bars, five cups of noodles, and three cinnamon rolls, all wrapped in clear plastic. It’s exactly enough for one ‘meal’ a day, how thoughtful. 

I wonder where he’s getting the food, especially the apples. Do they have greenhouses down here? I’m guessing if they do, they must use those special LED lights for growing the trees and plants. I suddenly think about asking him how they do it, my love for biology resurfacing after weeks of nothing but wondering about SOULs. Which I guess they relate to biology, but more-so on a spiritual/ magical level rather than a physical one.

_ Oh well _ , I think as I unwrap an apple, knowing my question would never be answered anyway, at least my headache is mostly gone now. I shove the rest of the food back in the bag and toss it on top of my duffel bag. Then I reopen the notebook and lay on my stomach, taking a bite out of the apple. Let’s see how entertaining his self-published novel is; I have low expectations.

The first few pages explain how to summon a SOUL and return it, with pretty much the exact same descriptions he gave me. I read through them anyway, both as a refresher and just in case there’s anything different. Thankfully there’s nothing beyond what I already know, and I place a hand over my heart, remembering how I did it last time. I think of simple things I love: cool summer nights, sparkling stars, the rustle of leaves in a breeze. I look down and there’s the purple heart, its glow brightening my room despite the hallway lights. I stare at it for a short time before returning it with thoughts of the scent of rain.

I can’t help but smile at the fact that I can do something like this, a practice I always believed was impossible. Maybe someday it’ll become second nature and I won’t even have to think when I summon it. Although I’m still not sure why summoning your SOUL is the first task to be accomplished when learning magic. I guess because magic, at its core, comes down to the person wielding it. Maybe magic takes all kinds of different forms and no two people can use it in the same ways. Well, besides the basics, I guess. The thought actually makes me excited to turn the page, anxious to learn what I can do. Magic takes education to a whole new level.

The title at the top of the next section says  _ Summoning Shields  _ with a list of steps on how to do it. It’s pretty much the same formula as summoning a SOUL, only I have to remember what I want to protect. Or more accurately,  _ who I need _ to protect.

My stomach clenches when I think of the memory I re-experienced yesterday. Wow, was it only yesterday? Or was it two days ago? I sigh and look up at the camera.

“See, this is why I need a calendar! I can’t keep my days in line anymore!”

I look back down at the notebook and think about the memory, the helplessness I felt in it. I was angry then, right? Shouldn’t anger be a trigger for magic? Or is it only possible down here because monsters are made of magic, and close proximity with them triggers the ability for humans? No, my father was able to do it. Maybe you have to understand that it’s actually  _ real _ before you can use it. I remember hearing about people who were considered “crazy” because they preached that magic was real. I’m guessing they just didn’t know where to begin after they got past the believing part. Otherwise, I probably would’ve grown up using magic.

I sigh and close my eyes, picturing the memory, remembering every horrific detail. Mable, I wanted to protect her. She was the only one I ever  _ needed _ to protect. I picture the fists slamming against her face, the black eye that lasted for almost two weeks, and the tooth that was torn out of her mouth. I feel my hands curling into fists, along with that whisper of warmth only magic can create.

I think I hear footsteps down the hallway, but I’m so lost in the memory that I jump when it feels like someone lightly smacks me in the face. My eyes snap open and at first all I see is purple light covering every inch of the room. I look around and see I’ve created a shield around the entire room that extends past the lasers. 

I see him standing in the hallway with a finger hovering next to the shield; I guess I felt the impact of him touching it. Every thought disappears when I notice the palm of his hand- well what used to be his palm that is now a gaping hole, a perfect circle cut through the bone. My eyes shift to his other hand that holds what looks to be a calendar, it’s in the same condition. Well that explains why he was hiding them earlier today.

My shield disappears and he turns off the laser beams. Then he tosses the calendar and a blue permanent marker at me before turning them back on. I guess I shouldn’t be rude, considering that probably hurt beyond words, but I can’t help it. He’s a jerk after all.

“Did you have some issues with a hole puncher?”

He only glares at me before saying, “I marked the day of your arrival and today’s date, so you have some references.”

I stare at him in surprise, is he actually being…  _ nice _ to me? He turns to leave, but stops himself.

“I expect results even more impressive in three weeks.”

Then he walks away while my jaw drops. Did he just say I did something  _ impressive _ ?  _ Me _ ? The worthless human? Well, he’s either in a really good mood or I’ve completely lost it. I’d like to believe the former.

I look at the cover of the calendar that says  _ The Sights of the Underground! _ in bright blue letters with a gray and white city in the background. Hmm, so he’s willing to show me what the world looks like beyond these green walls? It’s probably just to show the might and industrialization of the monster kingdom as some way of telling me to fear them. 

I flip open the calendar to January and see the picture at the top is a gorgeous forest covered in snow. I smile and my heart aches when I remember walking through the forests near our city in the wintertime, when they’d decorate the trees with colorful lights. Jeez, it’s probably been nine years since I last did that.

But… what does a snow covered forest have to do with the Underground? Snow is impossible down here! Unless, maybe they created some sorts of magic spells that simulated weather on the Surface? That’s the only way I can imagine how they did it. Still, I think I’d have to see it to believe it.

In the bottom left corner of the picture, there’s a light blue and white word that says  _ Snowdin _ , I’m guessing that’s what this snow place is called. Man, are all monsters just  _ that _ creative with titles?

My eyes shift down to the days and I find Friday the twentieth simply marked with the word  _ Arrival _ on it in the same handwriting as the notebook. So that was the day my life fell into shambles, the last time I was able to describe it as “normal.” Well, as normal as it ever would have been.

I flip the calendar to February and see a frozen lake with a tiny island of pine trees near the center of it. Like the first one, the title _ Snowdin _ is in the bottom left corner. There’s also that same darkness surrounding the scene that would suggest it was taken at night, if it were on the Surface. Needless to say the images are gorgeous; someone definitely used a high-def. camera.

I scan February’s dates, searching for the one he marked as todays, but there’s nothing. My eyebrows scrunch in confusion, no he has to be wrong. There’s no way I’ve been here for over an entire month! I thought it’s only been two and half weeks!

I flip to March and immediately find the marked day, Thursday the second. This  _ can’t _ be real. How could I have been here for almost  _ six _ weeks? Have I blacked out that much? Or am I just extremely horrible at keeping track of time? Or is he lying to see how it will upset me? Is this a test? Hopefully not, because I seriously want to know just how long I’ve been here. 

I guess I just have to believe that this is the truth. To be honest, I can’t remember how many times the lights went out. There were many days when it seemed like they’d never turn off.

I shoot up to my feet and walk to the mirror to see how bad I look. Is it me, or are my cheekbones more visible now? I pinch the loose fabric of my shirt between a few fingers, remembering that it used to fit perfectly. 

I toss my hair over my shoulder, analyzing the uneven ends. It’s definitely about an inch longer than it was, and my hair was long to begin with.

I stare into my purple eyes. Is this place draining me? Am I losing myself? Will I waste away and become a hollow skeleton with no purpose to live for?

Or… will I walk out of this place stronger than when I entered it? My eyes fill with tears when I realize what my heart truly desires. I want to  _ live _ .

After weeks of denying it, the truth has finally smacked me in the face, and I can’t bury it anymore.

I slam the bathroom door shut as the tears begin to pour down my cheeks, and I curl up in the corner next to it. My eyes instinctively snap up to the ceiling, searching everywhere for a camera, but of course, there’s nothing. I can cry in peace, even though he’s already seen my tears, my helplessness.

I think of the same message I’ve told myself for the past six weeks.

_ I deserve this. I deserve this. I deserve this. _

Why? 

_ Because I killed Mable. Because I’m a failure. Because I can’t protect anyone, not even myself. Because no one needs me, and no one would care if I died anyway. _

_ Because I am alone, and I am meant to die that way in the darkness. _

Sobs shake my body as I remember pulling that trigger, watching the blood seep from her wound, and listening to my father laugh as I lost the only other person I ever loved. Yes,  _ I _ was the one who held the gun, but I didn’t pull that trigger.

I bite down on my lip when I realize what I need to do. I need to forgive myself, and move on. 

I don’t forget it, I will _ never  _ forget it, but I need to put it behind me. I shouldn’t blame anyone, not even my father, who  _ did _ pull the trigger. I need to forgive  _ him _ too, someday. 

I should remember what happened as a reminder that I will never let that happen again, to anyone. I need to remember that it was cowardly for me to run, to believe that suicide was my best option, instead of trying to rebuild my life somewhere else, far away to heal. I believed becoming an experiment was what I deserved, it wasn’t. Mable wouldn’t have wanted this, neither would have my mother, and honestly, I don’t want it either. To be seen as a  _ thing _ , a test subject. Instead of the  _ person _ I am.

Because I am strong, and I can save myself. And most importantly, I can live an actual  _ life _ . No matter what’s beyond these walls, I will find my way home, wherever that is. And I know I have a family somewhere, people who will care for and love me, because they see value past my broken pieces.

I look up at the vent and smile, and I think I know where to start looking for a way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Installing the camera was just a plus to knocking her out (his real intention was so she wouldn't hear his muffled screams).  
> That was one big hole puncher... how do you justify that "accident?"  
> They're not "basic skills" every human would possess, he just wrote that so she'd expect learning to be easy.  
> Fun Fact: I based the calendar dates off of 2017 in case you were wondering.  
> My, how time flies... there's that meltdown Krista thought she could ignore. While she truly wants to believe that she's strong, Krista's still too hard on herself to accept that running to the mountain was a justifiable option.


	23. Mark Your Calendar

When I finally calm down, I take a warm shower, as if it will wash away my feelings. The reminder that I’ll probably have to re-experience Mable’s death creeps at the back of my mind, but I try to ignore it, fairly confident that I can get out of here by then. And if I go through it before I find a way out? Then maybe it will give me a better sense of how closure should feel.

Unfortunately, I don’t know where I’ll go if I even find my way out of this green maze. To that snow place? I’m not sure how long I’d last there, especially because I’m a human. I’m sure the second a monster sees me I’ll get shipped straight back here, under even less friendly circumstances. But there’s no way to get back to the Surface if Justin is right. I’ll just have to wait for the Determination SOUL, if it’ll even come within my lifetime.

The shower’s water clicks off after ten minutes, as expected. During my first week I wanted to see if I could rack up his water bill as a form of fighting back. Unfortunately, even that is controlled so I have no way to spite him beyond empty words.

I dry myself off with a towel and put on clean clothes. Well, as clean as I can get them with nothing but a bar of soap to work with. I brush my teeth with brand-less mint toothpaste and comb my hair by hand. I wish he would give me a damn brush, but I assume that’s too much to ask for. It was scary enough just asking for the towel and toothpaste. I braid my wet hair back before getting a good look at myself in the mirror.

I’d say I look better than before, there’s always that nice, clean feeling after a shower that will make anyone feel good. I square my shoulders and lift my head, creating the tiniest illusion of some sense of power. My scars tighten across my back and I wince, knowing that old weakness will never go away. I take a deep breath and hitched shudders shake through my throat as I exhale, the way they always do after I cry.

I walk back to the main room and see the hallway lights are already dim for the night, making my eyes feel heavier than they already are. Crying is so exhausting.

I pick up the calendar and mark the day he expects me to be extremely good at magic, the twenty-third. Hopefully I’ll be long gone by then.

I drink half a water bottle and then curl up on what I’ve learned to accept as a bed. Tomorrow night, that’s when I’ll leave. I’ll wait an hour after the lights dim, just to make sure, and then I’ll go.

Although, I feel like I’m doing this wrong. Should I take the time to map the vents first? Or would that take too long? What if there’s a lock on the door out of here and he has the key? Should I ask Justin if he knows? Surely there must’ve been other kids who tried to escape, I just hope he remembers.

I should say goodbye to them anyway, I’d hate to disappear without them knowing where I went. Justin would probably say he was right in claiming that I was a liar and that I never cared for them. I should probably try to get them out too...- no, no I shouldn’t. They want to move on. And as much as it will hurt me, smashing those glass tubes would be the best thing I could ever do for them. 

If I’m going to do it, then tomorrow will be as good as any time. I’ll just have to hope and pray the vents lead me somewhere I can safely escape. Otherwise this will blow up in my face very, very badly.

I drift off to sleep and the lights are already on when I wake up. Good, hopefully it’s already later in the day so I don’t have time to doubt my decision.

I grab the calendar and put an  _ X _ through the first and yesterday’s boxes, as if I’m genuinely counting down the three weeks.

I flip through the rest of the calendar, searching for the best place to stay in the Underground. Or at least, some place that looks easy enough to hide in that I won’t have to worry about being spotted.

The pictures for March, April, and May are even more gorgeous than the Snowdin ones. The title at the bottom for each of them simply says  _ Waterfall _ with images of teal flowers, glistening waterfalls, and what looks to be millions of stars in the sky. I’m guessing they’re actually stones in the ceiling that reflect any kind of visible light. In the April picture it actually looks to be raining, which I guess emphasizes my theory that they magically created weather down here. I don’t think I’d mind living there.

For June, July, and August there are pictures with the title  _ Hotland _ in the corner. (Seriously, I can’t get enough of these titles.) The pictures all look very similar with the common trend of lava and dark blue walls of molten rock. I shake my head at them, that’s definitely not a place for me, way too hot.

Although the July picture stands out to me the second I see a subtitle written under _ Hotland _ ,  _ The Core _ . Haven’t I heard that before? And then it clicks, when I listened in on his phone call, with that “Dr. Alphys,” they were going to have a meeting about it. 

I study the picture, it’s a giant, bronze colored structure surrounded completely by lava. It’s intricately designed with hundreds of different layers of metal that build a base for the three biggest pieces that look to be some kind of piping. They form a trident shape that reach far above the picture’s limit. 

Hmm, I can’t think of a purpose for it, maybe some kind of factory? Or power plant? Either way it’s obvious that it’s really important, which means it’s best I stay as far away as possible. If only I knew  _ where _ these places were in the Underground, then I’d know which is the safest concerning its distance from the lab. Of course, I still don’t even know where the lab is either. I’ll guess it might be in Snowdin since it’s always so freaking cold down here.

The pictures for September, October, and November are of the white and gray city on the cover of the calendar. September’s specifically has the exact same picture, and they’re all titled _ New Home _ . (Oh, so clever!)

I’m actually surprised when I see December’s, as it is a picture of a Christmas tree, clearly in Snowdin. I didn’t think they’d carry those sorts of traditions down here. It was probably one of the kids who introduced it to them, and they liked it enough to ignore that it was a  _ human _ tradition.

My eyes drop to the day of the fourteenth, my mother’s birthday. Even after she died, I still always wrote her birthday on the calendar. Maybe it was a stupid way to remember her, and maybe even insulting since she’s gone, but I still do it.

So I uncap the marker and write  _ Mom’s Birthday _ in the square of the fourteenth. Old habits don’t die hard for me; instead, they never go away no matter how hard I try. I think it’s the subconscious form of torturing myself with reminders.

I flip the calendar to November and write in my birthday on the seventh. Wow, I’ll be sixteen this year, if only I had a normal situation in which that actually meant something. 

I flip it to April without thinking and write Mable’s birthday on the twenty-eighth. Then my stomach clenches when I realize what I’ve done. Writing her birthday will now be like it’s always been for Mom’s, a silent celebration for a person who never lived to become that age. 

I blink away the building mist in my eyes and turn to August, staring at the twenty-ninth. _ His _ birthday. 

Nope, I’m not going to do it. He’s a person I don’t want to remember, and neither do I  _ need _ to remember him. Yes, he was my father. Yes, I loved him when I was little. But everything changed when she died. I haven’t been an orphan for six weeks; I’ve been an orphan for eight years. All because he wasn’t strong enough to move on. A task I hope I’m on my way of achieving, someday.

I flip the calendar back to March and place it on the floor in front of my bed. I stare at the picture of glowing teal flowers and sparkling stones. If it’s a decent trip away from the lab, then I want to live there. It’s too gorgeous to pass up, maybe I’ll even forget I’m trapped underground with no possible way out.

I feel like something’s bugging me when I think over the names of the areas in the Underground. As if there’s something missing about them. I think over everything I discussed with both the scientist and the SOULs, and then it hits me.

He said something about ruins when I first met him, that they were near the golden flowers at the bottom of the mountain’s entrance. They weren’t mentioned on the calendar. So, what are they? Are they ruins from the war? Did humans pursue the monsters even after they were sealed underground? Or did the monsters fight amongst themselves? 

I can only wonder what they look like, considering every human must have explored them after falling. Another thing to ask Justin and Blue before I leave. If the ruins are abandoned, then that’s the best place for me to be.

I finally flip open the notebook to the next section in an attempt to look like I’m actually studying. Then I remember he’ll also be looking for magic tricks so I guess I should actually retain the information too. Although, I don’t think it’s a bad idea to practice these new tricks considering I might need to defend myself out there. Who knows what kind of powers monsters possess? Which of course all leads back to the question of why he would willingly give me the tools to defend myself. He's not worried I might try to fight him? Maybe he's just that egotistical of a guy.

The title of the third section is  _ Creating Weapons _ ; yeah, this will definitely be useful. It’s pretty much the exact same method as creating a shield, only you need to picture the weapon of choice in your mind. Apparently most humans have limited options when it comes to the weapons that they can create, no matter what trait they possess. His descriptions claim that it’s because humans prefer to rely on physical weapons since they do not drain energy like magic does. I guess that makes sense, though I don’t get how that limits  _ what _ you create. It seems like it would more-so limit  _ how much _ you create at once.

I once again think about the things I love, and what I would do to defend them if someone tried to take them away. Of course, that’s pretty much already happened to me, but I discard thoughts about my present situation and imagine what it would feel like to defend someone I cared for.

I know I’d want to use the most classic weapon, even though I’ve never wielded one before. I open my eyes and see a purple sword glowing in my hand, its blade probably around three feet long. 

I lightly tap it against the floor to see if it will hold together, and the blade presses against the ground as if it’s made of solid steel. The only question now is, will it slice through something?

I grab an apple and place it on the floor before positioning the sword as close to its center as possible. Then I press it down and the sword easily slices through the fruit like butter. Wow, I guess I wouldn’t need to use different styles of weapons when this one is so effective.

I imagine a small paring knife and the sword transforms into it within seconds. I smile and slice up my apple before allowing the knife to disappear.

It’s almost scary how easy these “basic” skills are for me. Could it be because I have the second most powerful trait? That must be it since I don’t think it has anything to do with how I’m built physically. People never expect the tiny one to be powerful.

I turn to the next section titled  _ Controlling Surroundings _ and quickly realize it’s basically the same magic he used to freeze me in place. I notice a note on the side that basically says the weaker the trait, the less objects a person would be able to use it on. So, does that mean I’ll be able to do almost everything? What are the limits?

I’m about to read the trick that comes with it when the hallway lights dim. I smile and squint to read the notebook, only about an hour wait now.

Apparently the trick is finding the core of the object and demanding control over it. Well, that makes sense with a person or a monster, it would be the SOUL, but how does that work for something like an apple slice?

I stare at the piece in my hand and think of all the components that make up the apple. Water’s the biggest element, and there are the carbohydrates and vitamins, but are those what I’m really looking for? It’s not alive, so there’s no threat, nor a drive it has to exist.

I bite my lip and stare at the apple in frustration, how do I control it? I remember he was able to move those wires around without even touching them, which means there’s got to be some way to do it.

Maybe I just need to picture it; like I did every other time I wanted something to happen. That might be how my magic works.

So I imagine moving the apple and a purple light outlines it. I tilt my fingers up and the apple shoots to the ceiling, making me jump. Thankfully, it didn’t touch the ceiling and the apple hits the floor with a splat.

I’m sure if I really wanted to discover my limits, I’d have to do some of this practicing outside, that might make it less dangerous. I scoop up the apple’s core and the slice, wrapping them in the plastic before tossing them in the bathroom’s tiny trash can.

I glance up at the vent and smile. While I’m sure it’s only been about twenty minutes, I can’t help it anymore. I need to get out of here.

I stuff some extra clothes, the notebook, and the SOUL book into the drawstring bag. It’s easier to carry than my duffel one, even though I don’t like that it’s something he gave me.

I shut the bathroom door, a lame attempt to avoid suspicion, but hopefully it’ll keep him unaware long enough for me to get far away.

I jump up to the vent, nearly falling with the extra weight on my back, but eventually regain my balance long enough to get the screws off. I travel the same path I did before, noticing that the kids are silent tonight. Do they sleep? I guess so since they’re still technically half-alive, or they argue too much and give each other long silent treatments. I could believe that too.

I sigh in relief when the only room projecting light is the kids’, he  _ must _ be gone by now, right?

I get the vent cover off and quietly drop to the table. They light up a bit brighter than before and I smile.

“Hey guys, I’m back.”

Justin busts out laughing and Blue hisses at him.

“What?” I ask, feeling slightly insulted.

“Krista, you need to get out of here  _ now _ ,” Blue whispers.

“Why?” I ask, looking behind me. There are no changes from last time.

“I think he installed a camera in here,” Blue says.

I look up at the center of the ceiling and see nothing. “What do mean? There’s nothing.”

“Look up and to your left,” she says with panic rising in her voice.

I do as she says and my heart nearly stops. It’s hard to see, especially in this dim light, but there’s no denying the tiny black object in the corner.

He wouldn’t view the cameras at home, would he? Even though there’s no telling how close I am to getting caught, I have to ask them my questions. They could mean the difference between life and death out there.

“Justin, do you remember anything about the layout of the Underground?”

I think I genuinely surprised him when he stutters, “I- I don’t really know, there are bits and pieces, but nothing clear.” 

“Is there anything you can tell me? What about a way to get out of here? Do you remember anyone who tried to escape?”

“I remember that Snowdin was next to the Ruins,” Patience whispers.

My eyes dart to her.  “You remember that for sure? What was next? Waterfall? Hotland? Do you know where this lab is?”

“Hey, back off, she can only remember so much without you bombarding her with questions,” Justin snaps.

“Sorry,” I mutter, knowing my time is probably running out.

“Wait, how do you even know what those places are called?” Basil asks suspiciously.

“I saw them on a calendar he gave me, long story.”

“And I believe we deserve to hear it if we’re going to help you, because it still sounds to me like you’re getting the pampered treatment. Why do you even want to leave?”

I glare at Justin. “I thought we already discussed that.”

He’s about to say something when Patience cuts him off.

“Waterfall was next, and then… New Home, maybe? Or… Hotland did you say?”

“Yes, which one was next?”

Her SOUL starts to look a bit grayer when she stumbles over her words. “I- I’m sorry, I- I can’t remember.”

“You see what you’re doing? Stop asking her, Perseverant!” Justin snaps.

“I’m sorry, but I’m just trying to find out where I can go!” I yell.

And then the door opens with a loud bang against the wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly can't tell if it's an insult, but I still mark the birthday of someone I lost. (I'm probably the only weirdo who does it.)  
> I guess you could say the whole forming weapons with magic was kind of inspired by Camila Cuevas' Glitchtale, but what Krista creates is much simpler in design.  
> Yeah, she definitely did not think through her escape plan at all...


	24. A Silent Promise

I freeze, my throat tightening with fear as I stare at the shadow formed on the wall by the hallway light. I didn't even notice it was turned on; I really need to be more observant. The light from the kids dim until they’re almost pitch black, and I turn to face the skeleton alone.

My stomach twists when he appears to be on the verge of laughing, smirking down at me as if I’m an ant he can fry with a magnifying glass. I back up a few steps and square my shoulders, pretending as if we’re just about to have another conversation while I’m locked in my cell.

“Has it already been three weeks? Man, time flies when you’re studying fourteen hours a day,” I say with a shrug.

He just smirks before saying, “You humans are all the same.”

“You mean because we hate working when we don’t have to? Yeah, I don’t think even the workaholics enjoy it _that_ much.”

His amusement doesn’t disappear. “No, it is the desperation for social connection that every human has possessed, even the silent ones. That and of course, your innate desires to survive.”

I take a step back and hit the table with the SOULs on it. My bravado disappears when I realize how much taller he is. Maybe it’s the shadows, but whatever it is... he’s terrifying. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say genuinely.

“I knew you would try to escape eventually,” he says as if he’s the smartest being in the world.

“Glad I didn’t disappoint,” I reply in a cracked voice, desperately trying to compose myself.

“Although I must admit that the length of time it took for you was… intriguing, especially in relation to your trait. Not even the Patient ones spent six weeks contemplating whether they deserved their situation or not. The latest one ever recorded only waited two weeks, granted all he did was explore the vents before crawling back to his cell, but that is still remarkably far from you.”

My throat tightens as I only focus on the fact that he’s admitting I’ve been here for six weeks. I guess some of my surprise shows as he says, “Yes, I know this is the second time you’ve left your cell without my permission. It has been common practice to observe the humans’ decisions once they find out how to leave. Some have discovered the vents through pure desperation, while others have followed the whispers of their fellow prisoners. I find it intriguing that humans can communicate with their SOULs even from far distances. It seems these forgotten ones still had a purpose, however small that may be.”

I see Justin lighten out of the corner of my eye and he hisses, “Go to hell you monster.”

The scientist doesn’t react at all as he narrows his eyes at Justin. “I believe that SOUL just said something, didn’t it?” he asks.

I bite down on the inside of my cheek as hard as I can and reply, “I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He smirks, “Very well then, I suppose it would not concern you if I destroyed these specimens.”

My eyes widen, “What?”

He walks toward Patience and lifts her glass tube off the table.

“You heard me; it is up to you to decide what to do with that information. You can either back away in fear, as you often have, or you can take action.”

Before I have time to respond, he drops the tube onto the tiled floor and it shatters into a million pieces. I gasp and cover my mouth as Patience’s screams pierce the entire Underground. Her SOUL fades to gray in seconds before turning to a tiny pile of dust. I can only stare at what used to be Patience’s last connection to the world, my body frozen in shock.

My ears ring in the silence that follows until Justin’s voice makes me jump. “Great job Krista, you’ve killed us all.”

I know the scientist is watching me, but I don’t care as I respond to Justin’s final accusation against me.

“I never meant for any of this to happen.”

“We didn’t either,” he scoffs before Basil’s tube shatters to the ground next.

I flinch and cover my ears to block out his tortured shrieks, but I don’t take my eyes off of his SOUL as Basil dusts even faster than Patience did. I think I hear Blue yelling at me, and I take my hands away from my ears before looking at her.

“Listen, none of this is your fault! I may not know you well, but I can tell you that you don’t deserve any of this. Don’t worry about us! It may sound bad, but that’s just because we’ve been forced to live far longer than we were ever meant to. I only ask that you escape this Krista, and that you make all our lives worth something,” if I saw Blue’s face I know she’d smile when she says, “There’s more kindness in the world than you’d think.” And then she shatters before instantly turning to dust, not a single scream.

I glance at Justin and he dims, accepting defeat.

“I may not like you, but I agree with Blue. Give him hell Krista, and give yourself freedom.”

His words seem to trigger something and I’m no longer frozen. I jump forward, wanting to protect Justin, but I’m thrown back against the table behind me by that stupid blue magic. The scientist then grabs the tube and throws it across the room, shattering it against the wall. Justin dusts the second the tube breaks, not even allowing him a breath of fresh air before dying.

My eyes snap up to the monster before me and he lets go of the blue magic, probably curious as to how I’ll respond. I straighten up and glare at him, trying to decide the best way to attack. If he wants a fight, then I’ll give him one. I think about who those kids were, what they deserved, and how they were buried before they could live. I feel magic stir around my hand and I form a dagger, wanting to slice that smug expression off his face. I take a step forward and he freezes me with his own magic. My dagger disappears and he throws me against the wall that shattered Justin. I gasp in pain as he throws me back to where I was originally before walking out into the hallway with smooth strides.

He lets go of his magic and I try to catch my breath, my shoulder stinging from the impact. I jump back when a dustpan hits the ground in front of me. I turn and see him smirking in the hallway.

“Once you clean up the mess you can go back to your cell,” he says in a bored voice that juxtaposes his amused expression.

Despite my shock and pain I ask, “You expect me to sweep up glass with my bare hands?”

“That is exactly what I want you to do,” he says before slamming the door shut with magic and walking away, leaving me in the dark.

My fingers curl into fists and I jump up to the door, twisting the handle in any way I can, but it’s stuck. I’m trapped to clean up the remains of the only friends I’ll ever have down here. Of course he’d do that to me, why not? It’s obvious that he planned all of this since I doubt there are just dustpans sitting in the hallway for no reason.

Every time I give him a sarcastic comment he gives me a world of torment and regret. I should really start keeping my mouth shut; he’s already proven how powerful he is. I’m guessing the only reason he gave me the tools to learn magic was to crush any confidence I’d gain. It’s just another reminder that I will never rise above those who control me, the little power I have will be always be destroyed.

I sigh and search the wall for a light switch, careful not to step too far to the right where Justin’s remains lie. I finally find one on the left wall and it turns on a single lamp in the corner opposite to the one with the camera. I turn to Justin’s pile of glass and dust, knowing I have no other choice but to follow the rules. Even if I jumped up in the vent he'd probably come back to shove my face into the glass. I grab the dustpan and try to scoop up as much as I can, thinking of any way I could collect the remains without using my hands. When the ground is only halfway clean I realize my best option is just to use a shirt.

I pull out a dark red T-shirt from my bag and roll it into a ball so it'll be easier to maneuver. I never really liked this shirt anyway, especially now that I can only associate red with blood. It's the same style as all my other shirts, the cheap, rough material that scratches the skin and provides little warmth. Granted they’re intended to be worn when it’s hot but still, they’re the cheapest I could find.

The variation in the shirt colors used to comfort me, a rainbow of light in a world of darkness. I think they still do, but colors are beginning to have only one meaning to me. With green I used to think of nature, life, Mable, and pears. Now all I think of is a prison with the false advertising that there's a life to live beyond it. Sure there are different shades of every color, which is why they have so many meanings, but the lack of visual changes down here have made everything blur into one despairing truth: I will always be a prisoner, and I will never have a choice. There's no other way to see it when time and time again I am the failure.

I drag the shirt across the last few remains of Justin and what kept him alive. I try not to think about what my shirt is actually touching, simply telling myself that it's just a really dusty vase that broke. Of course that doesn't work as I think over his last words to me. They were words of _encouragement_ ; he wanted me to _succeed_ , despite his clear misgivings about who I am. Why was Justin so different in his last moments? Was that actually a glimpse of who he used to be?

I stare at the contents of the dustpan, every speck of his destruction lying in it. I grit my teeth and dump them into a trash can under one of the tables.

_It was just a broken vase Krista, not the remains of an innocent kid._

Yeah, I’ll keep telling myself that.

I begin to sweep up the rest of the dust and glass, thinking over Blue’s final speech. She wanted me to make all their lives worth it, was she implying that I help the monsters destroy the Barrier? Or did she just mean that I live for the rest of them? What was she implying by, “There’s more kindness in the world than you’d think?”

Was she admitting that the monsters actually are good, and I’ve just met the only bad one?

The questions swirl in my mind as I throw away the last specks of the friends I had. The only good thing that came with my wondering is that it distracted me from realizing that some of the dust had collected on my hands. I refold the shirt and brush off my fingers before tossing it in the trash. I don’t need any more reminders than I already have.

I swing the drawstring bag over my shoulders and stare at the camera.

“Do you want me to crawl through the vents or are you going to chaperone me through the hallways?” I ask it.

The door opens and he stands there with a disappointed expression.

“That took you long enough, it would have been faster if you had used your hands,” he says in a bored tone. Something must’ve ruined all the fun he was having earlier.

“Sorry to disappoint but I actually have _feelings_ , unlike you,” I sneer. He simply shrugs and motions for me to follow before striding down the hallway. I roll my eyes and leave the room without looking back, not wanting to remember where it is.

There are only a few turns before we end up right in front of my cell, home sweet home. I walk through the entrance without stopping and throw the bag on the ground, as if I just took a quick vacation. I jump up on the bed and begin to scrape some of the dust out from under what’s left of my fingernails. It takes a whole minute for me to realize he hasn’t left and I look up, raising an eyebrow.

“What?” I snap.

“No other comments or insults? Not even tears over the loss of your friends?” he asks with the faintest hint of curiosity in his monotone voice.

I roll my eyes, “If you wanted more insults why didn’t you just ask in the first place? For a guy so supposedly smart you’re not sharpest knife in the kitchen.”

He smirks and I can’t help but feel this is his way of insulting me. Fine, then I won’t play his game.

“And no, there aren’t any tears because I barely knew them, I don’t cry over as many things as you’d think.”

My face heats up when I remember he already knows what _does_ make me cry, and what makes me completely pathetic. My fingers curl into fists, he’s trying to make me angry on purpose, but of course his reasons remain obscure. I look away and wrap my arms around myself, realizing how cold the room is despite my rising anger.

“Will you just go away and annoy someone else? You can’t possibly be so lonely that you want to have conversations with your prisoner.”

I hear him softly scoff and then he walks away. I sigh and let my hair drape over my shoulders, trying to create any extra warmth in this ice cave. I stare at a spot on the floor across from me for so long the lights eventually go out. It must’ve been hours, but it only felt like minutes. What is wrong with me?

I finally jump up and wash away the last traces of the SOULs, silently promising that I’ll make their names known to the world. I see the vent is back on the wall behind me and when I try to get the screws off they don’t budge a centimeter. I try to use the semi sharp corner of one of the books, wondering why I didn't think to use it before. It doesn't really matter when that method also fails. I guess he sealed it, a guarantee that the only way out of here is past the green lasers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course, right after Krista tells herself to stop insulting him, she insults him (it's a habit at this point).  
> Why keep graying SOULs when you have a perfectly good Perseverant that's better than all of them combined?


	25. The Possibilities Are Endless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another "informative" chapter before the next round of misery.

For the next two days, I read the entire section describing the traits of SOULs with no interruptions. The descriptions for each of the traits perfectly represent the people I knew who possessed them, until I get to Perseverance. The Kindness section described the exact same shyness and encouragement I saw in Mable. The Integrity description had the same strength and leadership that Blue possessed. Justice had the suspicion and hidden love that Justin showed all too well. 

I try to keep the Bravery description in mind just in case I ever meet someone with it, although I'm not sure how the descriptions would ever give me an advantage when knowing someone. I guess it helps if they're an enemy? 

Apparently each trait has a set of skills that limits its holder’s magical capabilities. Patience uses magic more for reasoning, Justice and Bravery use theirs for fighting, and Kindness and Integrity are for morality, comforting those around them.

I begin reading the Perseverance section without any expectations, unsure how similar I truly am to the strength of my trait.

_ Perseverance, a power few possess and even fewer can wield. While some may possess this trait, not all can control its power so easily. The stronger the trait, the more difficult it is to utilize its untapped potential. And Perseverance is no exception, for it is the unyielding strength that allows this trait’s bearer to fight until the last breath.  _

_ Perseverance is the ability to stand one’s ground against impossible odds and live to tell the story. A Perseverant will live to watch the world spiral into madness, and they alone will understand why it happened. It is the antithesis to Determination, the water to its fire. It is difficult to say who would win in a fight, although the power and unpredictability of Determination would make it a more likely victor. _

_ A Perseverant is not only resistant to physical pain, but also mental torture. While any other trait would crumble underneath constant abuse and neglect, Perseverants will refuse to give up on themselves. Even if they may not know the reason, a bearer of this trait will fight despite any obvious limitations. _

_ The distinct powers of this trait are unknown as they vary from human to human. The only other trait as unpredictable as Perseverance is Determination. However, unlike Determination, Perseverance has a clear conscience, no matter how strong or weak its bearer is. Perseverance will always fight for the right path, only straying when it truly believes the outcome will be for the greater good. In a situation with allies, a Perseverant will choose them over oneself. In the face of an enemy, Perseverance never backs down, even if its weapons are words. Any possessor of this trait is a formidable opponent, and their limits are only as far as they’re willing to fight.  _

My eyebrows scrunch in confusion as I read over the description again and again. Am I truly Perseverant? I bowed down to my father for eight entire years! Sure I had a little bit of rebellion in there, but not to the magnitude of the description. If there’s one thing I’ll agree with, it is unpredictability. I’m surprising even myself with all the smart-ass comments I’ve been dishing out. I guess it also explains why magic has been so easy for me; I’m one of those stronger possessors of the trait. Not that I’m bragging, it might also be because I’ve endured a decent amount of physical and mental pain. It also makes sense as to why I was having such a hard time trying to not think about escape, I was denying my own SOUL.

The factor that bothers me the most is the claim that Perseverance survives long enough to watch the world fall apart, or spiral into madness. What does that mean? How does that apply to me? I’m not going to survive long enough to see another sunset at the rate I’m going. How am I supposed to watch the world crumble around me? I bet it’s just a metaphor for something I wouldn’t understand, or it might just mean Perseverants see the world in an entirely different way from everyone else. 

My eyes drift down to the Determination section, so this is the one I’ve been hearing all about. In almost every other section Determination was mentioned at least once, and I’m guessing for good reason considering it’s the most powerful one. I immediately begin to read, slightly nervous about learning how dangerous some humans can be. 

_ Determination, the most powerful trait any living creature can ever possess. This trait is the power to save all or kill all. Determination thinks itself above consequences, for its power can drive it to believing that it controls the universe. Frighteningly, this is not far from the truth. Determination is the only other trait besides Perseverance that is unpredictable in its limitations and abilities. The powers of this trait can stretch even beyond natural laws, rumored to even have the ability to control time and space. _

_ The bearers of Determination either befriend all or destroy all. It is unwise to willingly trust a Determined SOUL, for it can just as quickly erase a follower from existence. This has led many Determined to stand alone in their lives, for one can never know just how many times they have erased or created alternate existences. Determination embodies the best and worst forms of humanity. While other traits strive for goodness, Determination can just as easily fight for eradication. A Determined does not see the difference between right or wrong. Instead, it only knows right and wrong together, blending the two into its own definition. The trait’s curiosity is uncharted as it fights and claws its way through any obstacles in order to find the smallest changes in the same scenarios. Determination is the ruling force of humanity, both its greatest ally and worst enemy. _

_ The only force that will stop Determination is DETERMINATION, there is no other power greater than itself. A fight between two humans possessing this trait would be impossible to predict, for there is no cap on the power that would manifest between two opponents with the same unknown capabilities. A Determined SOUL is not limited by age or size, the smallest Determined in existence could still destroy the toughest Perseverant, although there is no direct proof of this, it is the most probable conclusion. _

_ Unlike the other traits, a Determined can have two eye colors. While most humans have the same eye colors their entire lives, those of a Determined will change based on their magical skills. A Determined who has never used magic will have brown eyes while one who has will possess red eyes. It is unclear as to why this ability is strictly limited to Determined SOULs, although a possibility is that the red eyes are a warning that the Determined is a possible threat.  _

_ Determination is by far the rarest SOUL to ever exist, it is said that there are only about five born every generation. _

My stomach drops and I immediately understand why I have only ever seen brown eyes on one person: Matt. He’s a Determination SOUL, one of the most powerful humans of our generation, and he doesn’t even know it. I guess that’s a good thing, especially because it seems like power can really go to the head of someone who knows their abilities are unlimited. It makes me glad that magic is no longer a thing on the Surface, or else who knows how horrible he could’ve become. Or maybe he could’ve been a great hero, refusing to succumb to the temptation of power. I’d like to think the latter is a greater possibility as I continue reading. 

_ The rarity of the trait has led many to believe that those possessing it should rule each new generation of humanity. However, others have argued that its unpredictable power is the perfect reason as to why it should not lead, as it could easily destroy all that the weaker ones have built. No matter what is to be believed, there is no denying that all Determination SOULs should be approached with caution, even those with brown eyes. _

So… I guess it’s best to proceed with caution if I ever meet another Determination SOUL, which actually seems likely since it’s the last trait they need in order to break the Barrier. However, if I ever do see Matt again, I’ll still trust him; he doesn’t know about any of this craziness.

The title of the next section nearly makes my heart flutter as it says  _ Differences In Shades of SOULs _ . I flip forward a bit and see the next two sections describe how humans can turn gray and how monsters SOULs are different. Finally I’ll be getting some real explanations!

I read through the first section at a pace faster than I’ve ever read, more eager than anything to learn. Although, it’s a bit of a downfall when all I learn is that SOULs vary in shades based on their strength, nothing more. The darker the SOUL color, the stronger it is. However, Integrity is an exception because its medium color (the color of the SOULs shown in the book or the “default” setting of the trait colors) is already fairly dark. So for that trait it is closer to white when it is stronger.

The description leads into the next section on how humans can turn gray, which means they completely lose any aspects of their trait, usually becoming the opposite of it. There are several causes ranging from losing any hope in life to a sickness so draining the person will be stuck on the verge of death. Overall the description is fairly vague on what directly causes the loss of a trait; I guess it depends on the person. 

A lighter colored SOUL (with the exception of Integrity) is more likely to turn gray than one with a darker shade. The richer the color, the stronger the connection between the possessor and the trait. I guess that’s why my father turned so easily, his Kindness was always hanging on by a thread, and my mother’s death snapped it. I’d hate to think the same thing would’ve happened to Mable if I had died, but that might’ve been the case since hers was the same light green as his once was. 

The section about monster SOULs is intriguing to say the least, as they’re practically built exactly opposite to how humans are. 

_ Instead of colored SOULs, every single monster has a white one. While they’re shaped like hearts, monsters’ are upside down instead of right side up. A SOUL makes up the entirety of a monster’s being, as it is the most important factor in contribution to its survival. While humans are made up of matter like water and other physical material with only a bit of magic that can grow in their SOUL overtime, monsters are completely made up of magic with little physical matter. _

_ A monster’s SOUL cannot survive outside of its body for more than a few seconds, while humans can last minutes just as SOULs. When a monster loses some of its physical body, it loses some of its SOUL which can greatly harm it as its life progresses. This is why monsters age faster when they have children, for in order to have children they must lose a part of their SOUL to make up the one of their child.  _

_ This is not the case for humans as each SOUL is individually manifested due to the extra strength humans have to survive. Since humans have more physical matter than magic, this ultimately makes them stronger than monsters as they need no aid in supporting their bodies. This allows the magic to grow far more powerful in them while monsters struggle to maintain form with the little they have. _

_ The rest of a monster is made up through natural magic and its physical matter is created when a mother carries the child as a human would. However there are some anomaly monsters that exist through pure scientific creation. The best example of this is skeletons as they were once fluke experiments by humans. Humans once attempted to bring back the remains of their fallen loved ones through magic and accidentally created a new form of monster. Only a few hundred experiments succeeded and the skeletons who survived were nothing like the humans who had once possessed their bones. This is why the skeletons were the most eager to fight in the wars, as they felt they were abominations of creation, forever tied to creators who hated them. _

_ Overall, monsters are ultimately weak in comparison to humans. However, they have been known to defeat humans simply through outwitting or gaining unfair advantages. One other factor could be that the monster’s magical abilities are slightly more advanced than the human’s. However, in the end, a human would still be more likely to win in a conflict. _

I reach the place where he ripped out the pages of the book and roll my eyes. Well at least he let me learn  _ something _ . My only wonder is why he would let me know about that little bit of skeleton history. It’s basically saying he’s about one percent human, and that doesn’t bother him that I know? I guess he’s so arrogant that he thinks he can still control me with that stupid blue magic. Although the book begs the differ. I pick up the notebook and flip to where I last stopped. I just have to be more perseverant than him in order to fight my way out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like with the Patience description, I based the Perseverance and Determination descriptions off of Birdofterror's comments in these two videos:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZcwJact03A (Perseverance)  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mZBhiDuSup8 (Determination)  
> (I guess you could say this is also my way of showing off more great music :3)  
> The Determination description isn't saying that all the other traits are good; it's just saying that they are not as tempted/ likely to enact despicable acts of magic.


	26. Session One: Always In The Dark

I spend the rest of my wait learning as many magical abilities as possible, including some that aren’t listed in the notebook. The damn thing wasn’t even halfway full before he wrote,  _ that’s all you need to know _ . Sure it wasn’t. I love how it’s just SOUL training, a shield, a sword, lifting simple objects, and then that’s it. What is his deal?

I tried to come up with my own methods of magic wielding like finding a way to turn off the lasers and removing the vent cover. Unfortunately, neither of my methods worked. I even tried running into the lasers with a shield and end up getting pretty  _ shocked _ by the results. Yeah, it hurt and I think I singed a few hairs in the process.

I also tried running into walls with the shield, hoping they’d break and only ended up bouncing right off. The same result happened when I used the sword, even though it had sliced through that apple, apparently my magical skills have been no match for a simple wall. So, I decided to test my capabilities on the rest of my food. Well, the food that I could actually use. The cups of noodles were of no use, although I thought about destroying my last one since they were so damn salty. It didn’t help that the water temperature in this place can only partially burn, so I ended up with either crunchy noodles or cold soup, depending on how close I could get it to being edible. Unfortunately for my practices, the cinnamon rolls were just too good to destroy. As someone who hasn’t had too many sweets in her life, they were beyond amazing. I couldn’t risk eliminating any of that flavor! Granola bars aren’t the best option when it comes to slicing with a typical knife, but interestingly enough, it works well with magic ones. 

Due to my previous failures, I was only half expecting results when I tried slicing the chains of the platform holding up my duffel bag. It was actually scary when the whole thing crashed to the floor. I guess only the walls are impervious to destruction? I’m surprised he never showed up to yell at me.

Overall I think I get pretty good at using magic for an untrained newbie. I get good enough to even pick myself up with non-restraining  _ purple _ magic. Of course, it’s only for a very short time, but it’s still better than nothing. Maybe I should try it on him. 

The day of reckoning comes and he appears looking even more pissed off than I’ve ever seen him, if that’s even possible. Of course I can’t help but make a comment, talking to the camera has gotten far too boring.

“Did you miss me?” I ask innocently.

He does the skeleton equivalent to raising an eyebrow and then turns to walk down the hallway.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I say following.

He leads me through the maze and I make sure to scan my surroundings, attempting to map out a decent path that’ll lead to some form of exit. Unfortunately it all starts to look the same and I think he’s doing it on purpose to confuse me.

He finally stops at a door I don’t recognize and opens it with a dark gray key. Seriously why does he even need those, it’s not like someone  _ really _ wants to break into his mostly empty rooms that all look the same.

When he opens the door I peer inside and notice it is pitch black. Uh, weren’t we going to have a training session or something? Wasn’t that the point of the magic skills I learned? 

I start to walk inside and he stops me with blue magic. I sigh, how I missed this so much. Before I have time to attempt rolling my eyes he stabs a needle in my neck and I yelp. Then he throws me into the room and slams the door shut. I hit the smooth concrete floor and jump up just as fast, rubbing my neck. I pound on the door, opening and closing my eyes as fast as possible. I hate when it’s pitch black no matter whether my eyes are open or closed, it makes me feel blind.

“What the hell, man?” I yell over my pounding fist.

“You might want to back away from the door,” he says as bored as ever on what sounds like speakers in the room. Where did he go that he could talk through a mic so fast?

“Why?” I snap.

“I do not think you will want to be backed up against a wall for what comes next.”

“For what comes ne-” my voice fades out when I turn around.

My father stands in the center of the black room with an amused smile on his face and a kitchen knife in his hand. My stomach drops and I bite my lip, trying to focus on the fact that this isn't real. He can't hurt me, I'm completely safe, and it’s just an illusion from whatever was in that syringe. I’ll give him credit for how fast that worked.

“I wouldn't be too sure of that, sweetheart,” my father says with a widening smirk.

My fingers twitch into a fist, of course he knows what I'm thinking, he's part of my imagination. I blink and he appears a foot away from me with the knife on my neck.

“How real do you want it to be?” he asks, digging the weapon in and I grit my teeth.

“As real as the fact that you're dead,” I spit, shoving him away.

“I can arrange that,” he smirks before smacking me across the face. I stumble back and hit the door, beginning to believe I probably should've backed away when I had the chance. I straighten up, rubbing my cheek as I'm more concerned about how a figment of my imagination just  _ hurt _ me.

I look up and around me, searching for any bit of light or a camera, yet there's nothing but my father standing in the darkness. I'm still convinced my voice will be heard as I say, “What's the deal, smart guy? I know this isn't a memory! What kind of dark magic are you using?”

I'm not surprised when there's no answer, but my best explanation can only be this is some kind of manipulative magic he used in that syringe. That's fine; I'll just fight it, as long as I remember it's not real. Wasn't that the purpose of the training? To fight my demons? But why would he help me move on from the darkness that has been plaguing me my whole life? There's got to be some ulterior motive that's probably meant to destroy rather than help me. I'm suddenly concerned I won't walk away from this unscathed.

I’m about to summon a dagger when the darkness shifts and I’m standing in my living room, feeling several inches shorter than I should be. Instead of a weapon, there’s our old home phone in my hand with a number written on its screen. My father stands across the room with a twisted smirk as my finger hovers over the call button. My heart begins to pound as I remember this moment, it was a little less than a month after my whipping. I wanted to call Child Protective Services, believing they would fix everything. My father had walked into the room seconds before I finished dialing the number, as if he knew what I was about to do.

“Are you sure you’re making the right decision, Krista?” he asks in whatever this distorted memory is. It feels as real as the previous ones, as if I’m reliving the moment in the exact way it happened the first time. However, there’s a slight...  _ heaviness _ to my body that tells me this is not going to end the way it originally did.

“I know I’m doing the right thing, because anywhere is better than a miserable life with you,” I snap, my muscles moving without my permission. It’s as if I’m seeing the world through someone else’s eyes, yet I can still feel what it’s like to be them.

“You’re just saying that because you think you’ve had a hard time,” he says with mock pity. “I can guarantee you that a life in the foster system is worse than the deal you’ll have here.”

“What makes you say that?” my voice wavers as I put my finger back on the button.

“Because you’ll lose the only thing you care about,” Father says with a laugh. He doesn’t need to tell me who that is. “They’ll send her to some family that lives on the other side of the country and you... you will never find a home. You’ll be rejected by so many people it would be a miracle the system wouldn’t just toss you into the streets after a couple months.”

My face heats up when I think about losing Mable, never seeing her again, never being able to protect her. There’s a very small chance anyone would adopt us together, and even less likely that we’d be able to keep contact. Is it selfish of me to not call them? To sacrifice her chance at a better life for never seeing her again? I didn’t talk to her before deciding to call, assuming she’d want to leave here too, but what’s the cost of that freedom?

My father stares me down as my finger twitches over the phone, fighting to make a decision. I don’t even notice him move until the phone is knocked out of my hand and it hits the carpet with a soft thud.

“There, I made the decision for you,” he says before the living room shifts back to darkness. I feel like I’m fifteen again, once again aware that this isn’t real. What was the point of that memory? Everything ended the same way it did in real life, I wasn’t even that scared, so why did it happen?

I shake my head and form a dagger, the room faintly lights up with the purple glow. My father raises an eyebrow and twirls the kitchen knife between his fingers with perfect precision, something he never did in reality.

“How am I, the source of nearly all your fears, supposed to be afraid of you?” he asks.

My eyebrows scrunch in anger and I transform the dagger into a sword, sick of his taunts that have never left me.

“You’re not supposed to be, but I can fight until  _ you  _ are the one cowering before  _ me _ ,” I say in a commanding voice.

He scoffs, “We’ll see about that, little Krista.”

I run towards him with all the effort I can muster, realizing how very little activity I’ve had for the past two months when my body protests. He just continues to stand there even as I run, as if I’ll never hurt him. I almost stop when I realize I can’t hurt an imaginary figure, but I immediately speed back up when the rationale hits me: if he can hurt me, then I can hurt him.

I’m only two steps away when Mable appears in front of him, tears staining her cheeks. I stop, my throat tightening at the sight of her.  _ This isn’t real, this isn’t real, this isn’t real! _

“Krista please,” she says, her lip quivering, “you can’t win, it’s best to just do what he says.”

Without thinking I shove her behind me and lunge for my father, my eyes set on stabbing his heart. But nothing happens as he disappears and the room begins spinning until it transforms into my old bedroom. The lightness of my sword disappears and a heavy black handgun replaces it. I look up and witness the same scene I experienced two months ago. Only its misery is amplified tenfold.

Mable thrashes against the bed as metal bars hold down her arms and chest. My father stands to the side, admiring his work as he crushes her fragile SOUL. She screams at the top of her lungs, begging for him to stop, begging for me to save her, but I can’t move. Father looks up at me with a smirk, “You know you want to Krista,” he says nodding at the gun. I try to respond, but my mouth never moves and I nod instead. 

_ No! I don’t want to do this. I’ll do anything you want if you’ll leave Mable alone! _

“Krista, why do you hate me?” Mable asks in her screams. “Why has everyone abandoned me? Why won’t you just kill me and get it over with?”

I want to fight, scream, cry, anything else other than what I actually do, which is lift the gun. I walk closer to her, not controlling anything my body does. She stares up at me, her eyes filled with pain, pain of betrayal. “Please,” is all she whispers.

I want to apologize, hug her, anything to comfort my tortured sister, but my face remains a mask of indifference. I gently place the barrel of the gun in between her gorgeous eyes and mockingly tilt my head at her, as if we have all the time in the world. “You deserved worse,” is all I say before pulling the trigger. Her blood sprays on my cheeks and I roll my eyes, as if it’s a mere inconvenience that she would dare possess something so dirty.

Inside, I am screaming louder than I ever have, fighting to claw my way out of this nightmare. My eyes lift to my father and he gives me an encouraging smile before picking up a can from the ground and pouring its contents on Mable. He strikes a match from his pocket and flicks it onto her with a careless shrug. Mable’s body immediately lights up with flames and I turn away, walking out of the room with a cheerful step. My father puts an arm around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head. “You did the right thing, little gem,” he says. My stomach drops when I remember that was his nickname for me when I was little, when he loved me... I hate it now.

My finger twitches on the trigger of the gun, a movement from me, the real me. I focus all my strength on moving my hand, fighting to take control of whatever this dream is. I can feel the heaviness pushing back, a force that feels as powerful as all the magic that exists. But I still persevere, and as we are just about to reach the pear tree, I shove him as far away as possible. My father stumbles, but remains on his feet. The kind smile he had seconds ago disappears back to his familiar scowl. I point the gun at his head, my finger pressed tight against the trigger.

“Funny how you can only fight back  _ after _ your sister is dead,” he smirks.

“Shut up!” I scream and take a step towards him. All the emotions that were thrashing inside me finally break through and my eyes blur with tears. I blink them away as fast as possible, forcing myself not to get lost in my fears and anger.

“Oh but you will, Krista. You can’t escape the guilt you’ve been running from for so long,” he says smugly. I pull the trigger and hit him in the corner of his left eye. He doesn’t even flinch as blood and fluid seep down his cheek. “You think that can hurt me? Who do you believe you are really torturing the more you fight? Could it be… Mable?” I fire the gun over and over, riddling his body with holes that no treatment could fix, yet he remains standing. “Come, come, little gem, we haven’t got all day. What are you actually fighting against?”

The gun runs out of bullets and I toss it away, prepared to lunge at him when a voice stops me.

“Krista?” Mable’s soft voice asks. I close my eyes and cover my face; I don’t know how much more of this I can take. “Krista, please look at me.”

I look up and she’s standing before me, blood running down her face from the hole in her forehead. “You can either truly forgive yourself, or die where you stand, because this will  _ never _ end. Let go of your guilt, and enjoy your life.” She smiles at me with mock love in her eyes. “Well that is, for the next few seconds you have.”

“What?” I ask before the ground drops out from beneath me. I gasp and Mable waves goodbye to me, her green eyes turning into black pits. I try to stare up at the last bits of the blue sky, struggling to not look at Mable’s smile so filled with anger she could kill someone with it. My father walks up to her with an equally hateful grin, dropping the kitchen knife from earlier to seal my inevitable demise. 

The freezing wind shrieks in my ears and I grab the locket around my neck, remembering how this scenario ended last time. Unfortunately, I hit the ground and remain conscious, the breath in my lungs disappearing with a wheeze. I spot the knife a few yards above as it falls directly towards my chest. I roll to the side and jump up for good measure before it clatters to the ground. 

I cautiously pick the weapon up, searching for any threats. Instead of a black room, everything is gray in this empty world. There’s something that feels…  _ real  _ about this room, like everything else has been an illusion, and I’m briefly waking up from it.

“I’m so happy we were able to meet,” a raspy voice says behind me. I turn and a child stands in front of me, no more than eleven years old. They wear a green shirt with a large yellow stripe in the middle and brown pants. The child’s limp brown hair is cut in a perfectly straight line that ends exactly at the chin. There’s a faint blush on both of their cheeks, as if they're hiding a secret they would never tell anyone. The kid’s appearance would be easily forgettable, if not for their striking red eyes. My throat tightens and the child smiles at me. “Well, before  _ it _ happens that is.” 

“Uh, who are you?” I ask in a voice just as raspy as the kid’s.

“That is no concern of yours, but what is, is that you must prepare for the final child to fall,” the kid- she? - says. The more they talk, the more I’m beginning to believe it’s a girl, based on the feminine quality of the voice.

“Not sure if you know about anything beyond this place but, how could I have any part in that?”

“More than you know, dear Krista,” she smiles. My throat tightens even more and I point the knife at her without thinking.

“Okay seriously, who the hell are you and what do you want?”

“I’m sorry that I had to interrupt your little dream world of torture, but I figured you could’ve used a break. That guy’s not the nicest monster is he? I never really liked him either; he was always too serious whenever I was around. The king told me he was a pretty funny monster if you got to know him well enough, but I doubt that. Anyway, you haven’t had this much magical exposure since you arrived so I figured this would be my only opportunity to give you a message. Now to the point, all I ask is that you do not interfere with the Determined child’s inevitable plans. It would be easier for all of us.”

What is she talking about? This isn’t part of the dream? Well, it certainly  _ feels _ different, I don’t notice any of the heaviness from before. I’m suddenly shocked by how aware I feel, like everything I just experienced was through some sort of lense. If only everything else she said made sense. She knows the scientist? He’s supposedly some great guy? I doubt that too. But the real kicker is this “Determined child.” Are they supposed to come within my lifetime? What plans would I interfere with? I doubt I’d have the opportunity to do anything in my current situation. I bet everything she’s saying are just lies, or some other trick that only feels like it’s not being controlled by whatever that messed up magic was.

“I’m not going to listen to your ramblings if you don’t explain  _ why _ ,” I snap, I’m sick of everyone being so vague.

The girl lowers her head, “I must leave this place, and the only way I can is if another Determination SOUL enters the Underground… and fulfills the destiny I was unable to complete.”

“You’re not making any sense,” I say, my head beginning to spin. If she had fallen Underground, then was she never caught? Did she escape? How can she see what’s going on in the real world? “How do you know my name?” is the only question simple enough I can think to ask.

She raises her blood red eyes to mine, tilting her chin as if she’s thinking of a place far away. “I know the names of every being in the Underground, or rather, those who have gained L.O.V.E. I am the first, and I will be the last. Just  _ do not _ interfere, and you will be safe, Perseverant. I have the  _ mercy _ to  _ spare _ one fellow human who is as damaged as I am.”

I’m about to ask more when she disappears, along with the knife in my hand. The gray world shifts back to darkness and a woman stands in front of me. My shoulders drop and tears cloud my vision once again. My mother opens her arms to me and I run into them, lost in the endless void of those who are long gone. I cry into her shoulder as she runs a hand over my hair, a touch I’ve missed so dearly. It’s been so long since I was the one who could be weak for a moment, the one that others would protect and hide from this dangerous world.

“Shh, Krista,” she whispers, “everything is alright.”

I hug her tighter and let the cries of sorrow escape me. I’ve missed her so much, the world has only been darker since she left, and never came back. I’m tired of being strong all the time, tired of fighting to survive. I want to  _ live _ , happily. When was the last time I laughed until my stomach hurt? Or smiled so much I forgot how to frown? Or put my head on a pillow at the end of a day and wished I could experience it all over again? It’s been too long to remember, and I’m stuck… somewhere. Where am I supposed to be? Isn’t there someone watching me? Monitoring my every move and then punishing me for simply trying to find a better way to live?

My tears stop and I look up at my mother. I’m not six years old anymore; Mommy is no longer around to protect me. But then why does she seem so  _ real _ ?

“I’m as real as you want me to be Krista, but that doesn’t change the fact that reality will eventually kick in, a lesson you should have learned by now,” my mother’s face darkens.

“What lesson?” I whisper, my body beginning to lean away from her.

“That you are alone, and no one will ever be there to protect you.”

She grabs my hair and slams my head into the ground, sparks bursting across my vision. I try to pull away, but her grip only tightens as she bashes me into oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaster honestly didn't know what she would experience, but he still had to make it seem like he did.  
> Yes, I am depicting Chara as a female in my story. (It's more of a personal/stylistic choice rather than a plot-driven decision.) (She is yet another character who enjoys cryptic messages.)  
> Chara doesn't just happen to know the names of those who have gained L.O.V.E., that was simply her reasoning to Krista.  
> Krista's demand for answers has now skyrocketed (it's about time she and the doctor have a Q&A session)...


	27. Answers Generate More Questions

My eyes slowly, painfully open to blinding light and I immediately shut them again. I gently place my hands over my eyes, lightly massaging my forehead. Nothing feels damaged, despite what vaguely feels like I just had a concussion. What… happened? There was my father and Mable and my mother and... a girl? How did I forget so easily that none of that was real? Except for when I was in that gray room, that felt like reality. Who was that girl? 

“That took you long enough,” a familiar, dull voice says to my left. I slightly jump and I finally let my eyes adjust. The room almost looks like mine, only it’s brighter and slightly larger. I look over and he sits in a chair about ten feet away from me, a good amount of distance that should always be between us.

“Can I ask how long it’s been?” I ask, trying to put on a tone of indifference.

“A little over a day since your session ended, I must admit I expected it to play out quite differently from how it actually occurred. You never cease to disappoint.”

I frown at him and roll my eyes, “You could’ve given me some sort of warning. That ‘session’ as you call it was nothing but an emotional, confusing roller coaster with no clear purpose.”

“No, it had a purpose,” he says dryly.

“Oh really?” I snap. “Then why did a normal memory play out at first and then I was thrown into a warped version of what actually happened? Then there was that girl, and then my mother who became the opposite of who she was in real life, care to explain those factors?”

“The memory was designed to confuse your sense of reality while the magic searched for the darkest shadows of your being. Then it turned your own power against you right as you were beginning to trust in your abilities.”

“Okay, but that still does not explain the girl and all her crazy talk.”

“What girl?” he asks, intrigue finding its way onto his face.

“Who do you think? The cryptic one with her strange message, you didn’t see her? She showed up right after I fell.”

He leans back and writes a note on the clipboard in one of his hands. I roll my eyes at the typical fake out that he’s writing information when I bet it’s just his way to think of some smart phrase to say next.

“What was her appearance?”

“Why should I tell you that? You should already know.”

“Well, it is clear some entity disturbed the session for its own gain and unless you want another one, I suggest you give an explanation.”

I bite my lip and sigh, “Fine.” I describe her appearance exactly how I saw her, even including the confusing voice. The only factor I leave out is the eye color, unsure of how he would respond, but of course there’s no avoiding it. I carefully watch his face as I describe her, searching for any sign of recognition. She seemed to know him, and I doubt she was some random part of my imagination. That girl is real, and she is very aware of this world’s occurrences.

“You have purposely avoided stating her trait, what was it?” he snaps, his tone much sharper than before, as if this news is slightly shocking to him. There it is, he definitely knows her.

“She was a Determination SOUL.”

He leans back a bit, his face darkening.

“Do you… know who I’m talking about?” I cautiously ask.

He sighs and begins to furiously write on the clipboard. I’m more stunned at the fact that he  _ sighed _ rather than how he’s taking the news. I’m guessing skeleton monsters breathe but without any true need to, I never noticed it before, or at least, I haven't thought about it in the past. I'm used to people sighing in annoyance; I just forgot the logistics of the being before me. That’s probably another connection to their sort of human ancestors.

He mutters something I can’t hear and I raise an eyebrow. “Is that a yes?”

When he speaks up, my throat tightens at the sound of his voice, the sound of his  _ language _ . It sounds like the garbled noises of a computer crashing, deep tones that would make anyone want to run away. Even though he’s not yelling, his voice alone is enough to make shivers run down my spine. He only speaks for a few seconds before continuing to write and I cautiously sit up, my head beginning to pound.

“The girl you are referring to is dead, killed long ago by her own foolishness, along with the prince of the Underground,” he snaps.

Even though the information shocks me, I’m still stuck on his change in language.

“Uh, are you just not going to acknowledge everything you said before that?”

“I do not have to,” he replies, staring at his clipboard.

“No, what the hell was that? I think I deserve an explanation, especially if whatever you said means that girl was some kind of threat.”

“She was no more a threat to you than you are to me,” he says flipping through his notes.

My face heats up at his comment and I look down at my hands, trying to think of a good comeback. I realize there’s a blue blanket covering me, and that the surface I’m sitting on is soft. Am I actually in a bed? I jump when blood splatters on my palm and I touch my nose, feeling a steady stream of the warm fluid. A box of tissues lands next to me and I eagerly grab two, sopping up the nasty flow. I try to give him a quick glare, but his expression stops me. The anger he’s trying to hide on his face is as equally terrifying as his change in language, but I’m not going to back down.

“What?” I snap.

“How ridiculous, that is all it takes,” he mutters.

I glance down at the bloody tissues, realizing his meaning. This is what makes me supposedly more powerful. My ability to have a stronger connection to the physical world, and he absolutely hates it. He hates that a girl as seemingly helpless as I am is technically powerful enough to rule every monster in existence. I don’t like that fact either, only it would be nice if I could hurt him with magic for once.

I try to play off his comment, “What you’ve never seen blood before?”

“As a matter of fact, I have. It’s just been an extremely long time.”

“There aren’t any non-skeleton monsters that bleed?”

“Monsters do not need to retain fluids in order to maintain homeostasis; instead their possession of magic will take care of most of their functions. While they still need nutrients to maintain their physical being, they do not contribute to factors such as blood or muscle tissues. This is why monsters turn to dust when they die rather than remaining in their physical form.”

“Uh-huh,” is all I can say when I realize he’s purposely trying to stay off topic from what I want to know. “So are there different languages monsters speak? I think that’d be hard to communicate since you’re all so close together.”

He sighs once more and I almost smile; I think that did the trick.

“Since you’re so heartbreakingly curious, I am the only monster who speaks that language.”

“That must be lonely; there are no other skeletons to talk to?” I ask, fighting not to go too far. I don’t want another nosebleed for when he’ll probably throw me into the wall.

“Every skeleton possesses a font for which it is named after. My particular font cannot be spoken in words as it is not represented by a traditional alphabet. Therefore, I had to purposely overwrite my intended language in order to communicate with other beings.”

I’m not very familiar with fonts; I can’t name a single one. All I know is that they’re just different styles of writing. Like how Bonnie’s sign was written in curvy letters while the sign for the mechanic down the street was written in straight, professional text. How could a font not be represented by an alphabet? With symbols? I guess it’s kind of like sign language then.

“So, what font would you technically be speaking now in order for me to understand you?”

His face twitches, “Unfortunately the default font for communication is called ‘Determination Mono.’”

Based on what I’ve heard about the trait of determination so far, I think I’d be upset too. I’m not even sure how spoken words can be technically represented by a font, although I definitely hear the monotone in his “Determination Mono” voice. Maybe what he wrote in the notebook and on the calendar was how it looks. A brilliant idea hits me.

“Can I learn your font?”

He scoffs, “You wouldn’t be able to speak it, and besides, why would I want you to understand everything I say?”

“So you don’t always have to speak the horrible font of Determination Mono,” I try to sound encouraging, as if it will help.

“I speak enough in my own language.”

“Yeah, but not to anyone else, unless you’re lying which is also a possibility.” 

His eyes narrow and I see the faintest smirk. I’m really winning his heart today, or well, whatever makes him feel the tiniest bit of emotion.

“Fine, but you are required to continue your magic practices.”

“Care to explain as to why?”

“I do not-”

I cut him off, “Ah no, we’re not doing that anymore. You can’t just inform me on some topics and then be completely vague on others. I get that I’m a prisoner and you don’t have to listen to me, but I can tell you’re also a scientist, which means you should be more respectful than a prison guard. So can we be a little bit civil?”

He raises an eye socket, “Alright, fine. How would you want to conduct a civil conversation?”

I’m shocked at how willing he is to agree, I hope this isn’t some sort of trick. “Well, if I ask you a question, then you can ask me one, and we both have to answer honestly. And you can’t be super vague; your response should make complete sense. And if one of us does not want to answer the question after it’s asked, then we can wait for a few days at most. But it must be answered eventually.”

He seems amused, “Alright, it’s an agreement then.”

“Okay, so why do I need to continue practicing magic? Your little session made it completely useless to me.”

“That session was intended to turn your magic against you. The more powerful you were, the stronger its effects.” My face twitches in anger, but I remain silent. “It is necessary that you continue because there are better uses for the power you possess.”

“Okay, but then what was the purpose of that session? How could my power be put to better uses?”

“The purpose of that session,” he says, “was to break you.” I raise an eyebrow, my throat tightening. “That test had been used on several previous humans, and they all either went insane or lost their memories. Granted most of them possessed the Patience trait, but even some as great as Justice were completely decimated. I wanted to see if even Perseverance could fall to its own fears, especially one as damaged as you are. What a disappointment that you could not, for now you are eligible for plans no other human has been susceptible to.”

So he’s technically complimenting me with an insult, how surprising. “And they are?”

“It is obvious that you have a very powerful trait, your first two memory tests were clear indicators that you are a valid candidate for a higher form of your natural limits. Most positive pasts hinder a human’s potential as a formidable wielder of magic, as they give the human no reason to strengthen their defenses. A damaged human however, has a greater need for survival, and therefore a stronger will to fight. If you continue to strengthen your magical ability, then combined with my other project, there may be enough power that equates to a Determination SOUL.” 

Is he serious? He thinks he can break the Barrier with  _ me _ ? Well, and whatever other thing he has planned. Is that why he didn’t care about destroying the SOULs? Since he was already so confident that I was powerful enough to have everything he needed? I guess the kids did lose their value anyway, given that the gray was already overcoming them. 

“Now, you have asked four questions since the enactment of our agreement. I believe it is now my turn.”

This can’t be good. I sit up a bit straight, “Alright, then.”

“Why were you so resistant to magic?”

I roll my eyes, “You’re still stuck on that?”

“Yes, and you’ve just added another question for me to ask.”

I sigh, “I don’t get how you haven’t put the pieces together yet.”

“I have, I just want to hear your opinion.”

I squint at him, trying to figure out why he is the way he is. “Fine, I guess it’s a subconscious thing, but after what happened with my father, magic felt...  _ wrong _ . It still does, to a small degree, but more-so when it’s someone else’s.” I give him a pointed look, since we both know the only other magic I’ve been exposed to has been  _ his _ .

“Is that answer satisfactory?” I raise an eyebrow before rolling my eyes at the fact that he can now ask me five questions.

He leans back with a smirk; it seems I’ve really screwed myself with this deal. “It is fair enough. Now, do most children have lives like yours on the Surface?”

My eyebrows furrow, that’s what he wants to know? Well, I guess he would want to know as much as possible about his soon-to-be new home if his plans succeed.

“No, most children are happy, with both parents who love them. They go to school and have friends; they draw pictures that they put on the refrigerator. They don’t have to worry about hunger, or the pain of loss beyond a dead goldfish. They’re not angry or sad; they have hopes and dreams that they’ll become someone of value to the world. They play outside and climb trees, creating entire universes with only their imaginations. That’s what a kid’s life should be like, and thankfully most are. Or at least, that’s what I’ve seen.”

“Why was yours so different?” 

My throat closes and I snap, remembering why I’ve been angry at my father for the past eight years. “Because my father was  _ weak _ ! He was too weak to move past his sorrow and instead he let it consume him. He changed into a stranger, a man my mother never knew, and neither did I. He left my sister and I to fend for ourselves, taking away any happiness she ever could have had.”

I turn away, forcing my building tears to stay back. He’s silent for a few moments before continuing. “Why did you never stand up to him like you have with me?”

I sigh, continuing to look away from him. “Because I had something to lose, and now I don’t.”

“You didn’t have anyone else to turn to?”

“No. My mother was an only child and my father’s siblings hated him for marrying her, they thought she was crazy for believing the legends of monsters. I never met my father’s parents because they lived on the other side of the country and didn’t care to meet us. My mom’s father died when she was sixteen and her mother was always so sick she wouldn’t have been able to take care of us anyway.” I finally look at him, my anger rising once again. “So there you have it. If that session proved one thing, it’s that I’ve finally accepted that I am alone in this world.” He writes a few more notes before standing up, a slightly softer expression on his face, if that’s even possible. “You have one more question.”

“I believe I will save it for later, as your emotions are slightly compromised,” he says. I roll my eyes and look away, confirming his observation. He walks to the door on the wall to my right, a few feet away from me. 

I’m about to move when he holds up a hand. I stop, but on my own free will.

“You will go back to your cell in a few hours, in the meantime, look to your left.” He leaves and I hear a lock click outside the door, no surprise there. I look and there’s a glass of water with a sandwich on a small table I didn’t notice. I don’t even have to get up it’s so close, I guess I ignore the rest of my surroundings whenever he’s around. I’ll give him the credit that he has a demanding presence, however intimidating it is.

I look around the room and notice there’s no cameras, interesting. I finally realize that I actually am in a bed, soft with fluffy pillows. I’m not going to try to think of how I got here, hoping for once that he used blue magic. Besides the chair, the only other object in the room is a small trash can that I dump my bloody tissues into after cautiously getting up. Thankfully, I feel pretty steady on my feet, with only a slight headache. I bet some of that magic is still working through my system, causing the nosebleed and now a pounding skull.

I climb back into the bed after grabbing the water and sandwich plate, noticing how utterly freezing this room is. Seriously, I know he’s a skeleton but can he not feel temperature at all? It’s amazing that I haven’t lost any circulation to my fingers and toes.

I’m a little wary of the sandwich as I inspect it, searching for any kind of sign it would harm me, but there’s nothing. It doesn’t even taste weird as I bite into turkey and lettuce, then again that peanut butter and jelly one didn’t taste any different either. I’m more curious as to how they’ve got turkey down here. I doubt meats are mass produced like on the Surface.

After my meal, I snuggle under the covers, grateful for the protection from the frigid air. I try to think about everything we discussed, from his strange font language to our question agreement, but my head hurts enough as it is. It doesn’t take long for me to fall asleep, safe and hidden from anyone’s sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in the book Asgore reads, Gaster says it is technically rude to translate a cipher on paper, but this is another one of my interpreted changes in which it is more-so common practice.  
> Gaster's questions are purely for evaluating her reactions (it gives him more insight on her personality and how to best manipulate/exploit her insecurities).   
> Now that it's fully established who has all of the control, he's willing to be more lenient with how much he tells her (what could a helpless human do with that information anyway?).  
> (Little does Krista know that "turkey" is a smashed water sausage.)


	28. Confirming Assumptions

I wake up with a jolt, the usual silence of this place shattering as I hear what sounds to be the screams of a child. I jump out of bed and run to the door, peeking underneath it to look for the source. Unfortunately there’s only a wall across from me, not that I expected to see much. The screams are fairly muffled, probably three rooms away from me, but they’re loud enough to get anyone’s attention.

Is that the Determination child? Or could it be the girl from yesterday and he was lying about her death? Could he be mad at her for speaking with me? Is it a completely different human who recently fell? Is it even a human at all?

The screams quickly diminish to whimpers before a deafening silence. I back away from the door, listening for any changes. Footsteps echo through the hallways before the silence returns. 

After about twenty minutes, the footsteps return and I stand a safe distance away from the door, prepared to demand an explanation. When he opens the door, I immediately notice his expression: a face fighting back guilt. He seems surprised to see me standing, ready to go. Since I doubt an explanation would be possible at a time like this, I pull the blanket off the bed and gather it in my arms. He raises an eye socket, mildly perplexed, I bet since I doubt he can feel the icy air.

“Can I keep this?” I ask. “Please?” I add for good measure. I seriously need a blanket, and this is probably my only chance to get one.

“Fine,” he sighs, his voice softer than usual. I follow him through the hallways, noticing there aren’t as many doors as I’m used to seeing, only three until we’re back at my cell. I walk through the doorway but quickly turn around to squint at him; he finally makes eye contact after turning on the lasers.

“I assume you have a question,” he says bitterly, not quite asking. I hope he doesn’t count my asking for the blanket as another two questions for him.

“Yes, but you already know what it is,” I respond.

He sighs, “I am not providing an explanation unless you ask for one.”

“That makes sense, but you still have a question for me and I’d rather not accumulate any more debt.”

He lightly scoffs, “Start studying, you will have your question tomorrow.” Alright, so he’s not counting my questions for the blanket, nice. He walks away, notoriously having the last words of the conversation, as usual. I wrap the blanket around my shoulders and turn to the metal platform I have for a bed. It’s definitely a step down from my most recent luxury, but at least I have a blanket now. I jump up and notice something in the corner of my eye next to my calendar on the floor. There’s a black book with the title  _ Fonts of Skeletons _ written on it in light blue letters. There are not many pages, and with a quick glance it seems there are just the titles of fonts and then their respective forms of how the alphabet is represented in both upper and lower case. I think the last few pages are what he wanted me to see, as there are actual descriptions that lead into the more cryptic fonts.

_ Most skeletons speak in fonts that are based on the commonly accepted alphabet by nearly all beings. The easiest way to know a skeleton’s font is for them to physically write down words. It can also be recognized based on their dialect, usually with a slight accent that would not be used by any other without that type. Skeletons do not follow proper grammar procedures in their natural fonts, as whether they speak in all lowercase or all uppercase defines a factor of their personality. One who speaks in all lowercase tends to be more laid back and less confrontational. Those who speak in all capitals tend to be more demanding of others’ attention and eager to take control of situations.  _

_ This factor is especially important with cipher fonts, which look entirely different when lower and upper cases are compared. However, all skeletons retain proper grammar when using Determination Mono, as it is the default font for all speakers. This font is usually uncomfortable for skeletons to use, and most do not since their forms of speaking are still recognizable to other beings. Fortunately for ciphers, the font comes more easily to them, however this does not erase the fact that it remains uncomfortable for them to use. _

_ What makes ciphers so unique is that their naturally spoken language will sound like various noises to other beings. Each “letter” will be represented by a different, individual sound that changes whether it is upper or lowercase. Only those with an intense understanding of the cipher languages will understand them, but even then no one will be able to speak it unless they have a SOUL relation to a cipher speaker. _

_ Overall, fonts are necessary to skeletons because they define that specific type of monster. All monsters have some sort of trait or “tick” that relates to their type, and for skeletons, besides their appearances, are defined by language. _

The next section lists the different types of ciphers, showing their crazy “alphabets” and how to pronounce each “letter.” One type in particular stands out, as its official name has been blacked out in permanent marker. I think I know whose font this is, of course he wouldn’t let me know his name. I try to stare through the ink, to make out any sort of word, but it’s too dark. Apparently there are three different versions of his font: one has mostly small drawings in uppercase and quadrilaterals in lowercase, two has mostly fingers pointing in different directions for uppercase and numbers for lowercase, and three has mostly arrows, symbols, and triangles in both cases.

How am I supposed to decide which one he speaks? I think I can at least conclude that he speaks in uppercase, given the controlling personality, that’s a no-brainer. But I can’t tell if he speaks more in drawings, hands, or symbols. I guess that’s just another question for him.

The lights dim in the hallway and I sigh, grateful that he’s no longer in whatever this building is. Or does he not have a home to go to at all? What if he’s always here? That thought is as creepy as the camera looming over my head.

I spend the next couple hours reading through every font, wondering if there have been some skeletons named after their crazy titles. I don’t think I could imagine being named Rock Salt or Spicy Rice, that’s just weird. 

I give up thinking about all the possible names and move to reading what I wanted in the first place. I try to figure out how each letter sounds for the first type of his font, assuming there’s no better way to start than with the first. I’ve got time; I’m not even tired, for once. I don’t dare try to pronounce any of the “letters,” I’d just fail miserably. What I need is for him to speak them out loud, that’s the best way to learn. Although I doubt he has time for me, now that his “other project” is underway. What could possibly be added to my power that would equate to the untapped potential of a Determination SOUL? I guess there’s not much point in thinking about it now, he better have an explanation tomorrow.

I stare at the line of symbols for the first uppercase style of his font, trying to hear the sounds described next to each pronunciation. Some of them have deeper tones than others, and when combined, some words only sound like one noise. Apparently there’s also a slight gasping sound underneath each word, almost like it’s trying to replicate how a human normally speaks. 

How am I ever going to learn this? I guess that’s why he agreed so willingly, because it’s nearly impossible for anyone to learn such a complicated language. I’m not even sure why  _ I  _ wanted to learn it, so he wouldn’t hate me as much? So there wouldn’t be as much distance between us as there is? Not that I want to know him any better, he’s freaking scary, but maybe so he’ll be more likely to let me go when this is over. If I can help destroy the Barrier, maybe my willingness to learn more about him will show I’m not another human who hates monsters. Granted he’s not been giving me the best impression of what monsters are like, maybe that’ll give me even more credit. Even if my hopes don’t play out, then at least he won’t be able to hide everything from me.

Since I can’t fully understand the pronunciations, instead I write out his symbol “alphabet” on the empty pages of the notebook with my calendar marker. If I can’t speak the language, then at least I can write it. I first write it in comparison to my alphabet, lining up the translations under the symbols. Even though the same thing is already in the book, writing will give me some muscle memory. I may be wasting my time if he speaks either of the other two but who knows, he may know some skeletons who speak it.

The first nine letters are hands in different positions, draw slightly different from those in the second version. “A” is what most people would recognize as a peace symbol, “B” is an okay sign, “C” is a thumbs up and “D” is a thumbs down, and the next four point west, east, north, and south. The last hand symbol is simply a hand, interesting. The next three letters are faces, one smiling, one neutral, and one frowning. Then there’s a bomb and then a skull with crossbones underneath it. Seriously, who thought this font was a good idea? The rest of the alphabet is all different kinds of symbols from flags to crosses to images one would associate with weather.

I start writing out various words and sentences in the symbols, trying to gain some slight memory of them. By the time the lights are back on, I have memorized what each hand symbol means and that “T” is a snowflake. I think it’s pretty good for a start, who knows how long I’ll have to master the written version of this language?

He finally shows up after an hour and I raise an eyebrow, he’s getting further and further away from the usual schedule.

“Don’t make that expression,” he snaps, throwing a granola bar at my head. I catch it and emphasize my curiosity even more, my mood improving at his annoyance.

“Ask your question already so I can ask you about your font,” I say while unwrapping the bar.

“Have you even slept yet?” he asks, looking at the pages of sentences spread around me.

“What a simple question, the answer is no, I’ve been studying like you told me to.”

“That question counts towards the two you had for the blanket, or did you just think I’d forget?”

“It doesn’t matter now that you’ve asked two, and if you really want to count my extra manners as a question, then you only have one now. I don’t get why you even wasted them, I’d think the camera was there for a reason.”

He seems irritated with my remarks, yet he still asks his question. “Why do you want to learn my font? If you believe possessing any knowledge of my kind will make you more likeable, you are sorely mistaken.”

“No, no, no,” I say nonchalantly, even though inside I’m cursing him out for already pinpointing my main motive. “I need something to entertain myself while you’re dealing with your more important project, and drawing isn’t really my strongest suit so language was the next best thing.” That’s partially true, but knowing his font is also another way to keep him from hiding anymore spoken information from me.

He squints at me the slightest bit, but doesn’t press the issue before looking back at all I’ve written.

“And besides, if I didn’t have a more important question, I’d ask why you so willingly agreed to let me learn your font in the first place.”

“I am willing to provide the answer to that for free,” he says, stunning me.

“Alright then,” I state, unclear of his motives.

“Past experiments have proven that when humans learn new information, their magical efficiencies improve nearly thirty percent. Since you have little else to do while I work on my other project, I concluded that a harmless form of gaining new knowledge would enhance your abilities. Due to the fact that my font is extremely challenging for beings other than skeletons, I believe that it may improve your magic by nearly fifty percent. Of course, that does not mean you will be able to  _ master _ it by any means, but attempting to learn will at least keep your brain active.”

Hmm, I guess that makes sense, but of course it’s also his way of insulting me. His claim actually motivates me more to want to learn his font, as a way of proving him wrong. Alright, I accept the challenge.  

“Okay, then can I ask which one is exactly your font?” I ask, holding out the book. The page is open to the three variations of the one he blacked out. He doesn’t even look at it, just continues to look at my pages of written text.

“The one you’ve already begun to learn,” he simply says, finally looking at me.

“Great, good to know I didn’t waste a night of who knows how much more time I’ll spend here,” I say putting a checkmark next to the symbols on my first piece of paper.

“You seem to be in an overly positive mood for someone who experienced her worst nightmares two days ago,” he says, intrigued.

“That’s only because I have something to distract myself with, no use in worrying over things I can’t change. Now, you should have another question,” I say biting into the granola bar.

“What was the message the girl told you?” he snaps.

I stop chewing, he’s really set on that, no doubt he’s angry that his precious session was disturbed without his knowledge. Perhaps she really is as much of a threat as she seemed to be.

“She told me to not interfere with the Determined child’s inevitable plans, whatever that means.”

“Did she say anything else?”

I try to remember everything we discussed. While it might have felt real, I was still so disoriented her point was difficult to follow.

“She said that she needed to leave the place she was trapped in, and that the Determined child was the only one who could get her out. She also said you weren’t very nice to her, I’m guessing you have that sort of trend with people.” He crosses his arms, waiting for more information, I sigh. “She also knew my name and said she knew the names of everyone who had gained L.O.V.E. There was also something about her sparing me as long as I listened to her, and she was able to contact me because I had a lot of magical exposure at the moment. I’d think you’d be knowledgeable about those points.”

His face remains impassive, but I can hear slight worry in his voice. “She claimed to have access to magic?”

“Not directly, but I guess that means she did. Can you sense magic?”

“I can sense the proximity of SOULs, especially those with greater power, yet her presence remained hidden,” he seems to be thinking out loud more than actually talking to me.

So that’s how he knew I had been through the vents before. He wasn’t talking to himself; he was telling me that I should prepare for worlds of pain to come faster than they had. No more long weeks of breaks before a bad memory, I’m guessing that session was the first of many since they’re supposedly his way of strengthening my magic. 

I almost smirk when I remember his phone ringing, I doubt he planned that. If I didn’t have so many important questions, I’d ask him about that ringtone.

“Well I have a question now if that’s all you need to know,” I say bringing him out of whatever daze he was in from my information.

“Ask it then,” he says dryly.

“Can you go through your alphabet? Just say each letter in order; your book isn’t very helpful on how they’re supposed to sound.”

“Fine,” he says, as if he expected me to ask. He says every letter, each one sounding slightly similar to the book’s descriptions. I take notes on the pitches and breaths that come with each one while trying to memorize them as they’re spoken. I hide the chills that run down my spine at how he speaks, while the language may be weird written, it’s scary in sound. 

He adds ten more sounds that stun me at how different they are from the first twenty-six. I look up after the last one, glad I took notes without realizing he had already exceeded the alphabet.

“What were those last ten?” I ask, suspicious, this could be another trick.

“They were numbers,” he says simply.

“Why?”

“You would have asked for them eventually.”

“Okay,” I say squinting a bit. I don’t think I’ll ever understand his reasoning.

“Now, do you understand why I allowed for you to have the blanket?” he asks in a voice that would sound completely monotone to anyone else, but I hear the bit of curiosity.

“I assume that it’s because I’m so pathetic in your eyes,” I say sardonically.

“I will be honest in saying that you are not as pathetic in my eyes as you are in your own.”

“I doubt that,” I scoff, “every time you talk to me it’s as if I’m a child who doesn’t know anything about the world.”

“It is true in relation to our experiences, you do not know anything about the world I live in,” he says.

“Yeah well you don’t know anything about mine, so maybe show some extra respect and I might feel more inclined to help you in the future,” I snap.

Even though my threat is empty, he seems pleased with my response. I’m beginning to believe he’s purposely trying to make me angry every time we talk, but why? 

“I gave you the blanket because you shiver uncontrollably every night, didn’t realize that did you?” he says smugly. I try to hide my shock, I know it’s cold, but I didn’t think I was always  _ that _ cold. “There are very few monsters who ever come down here,” he says glancing around the hallway, “most are fairly sensitive, almost as much as you are. However, I personally am not very attune to temperatures. I can tell that it is cold, but not cold enough that extra protection is merited.”

Well I could have told him  _ that _ . I’m not even surprised that few monsters enter this place. However, it does make me question just what this place is then, a secret lab perhaps? Is it even further underground than where the monsters normally reside?

“So the blanket is simply a gesture of pity,” I say, not quite asking.

“You can view it however you like, I was merely confirming the suspicions I’m sure you’ve accumulated. You may not realize it, but your questions are very clearly expressed nonverbally.”

I won’t argue that, it’s nearly impossible for me to hide my curiosity. “True, but there’s a lot I want to know, unlike you who asks questions that I’m sure you can deduce on your own.”

“Most of my questions are meant to reinforce my suspicions. I will honor our agreement, but that does not mean I have a genuine interest in learning more about you. Scientifically, I already know enough to conclude that your skills will be useful towards achieving my goal. Other than that crucial fact, your fears and personality mean nothing to me.”

I roll my eyes, “Yeah, yeah, I know, I’m nothing more than a tool meant to destroy the Barrier. My only question would be what would happen to me after that, but I’m not going to officially ask it.”

“And why is that?” he raises an eye socket.

“Because I’d rather ask about yesterday.” His expression darkens. “So, who was screaming? It must’ve been a kid, I can tell that much.”

“That… is something you should not concern yourself with,” he says.

“Remember, we’re not doing that anymore, so answer the question.”

He nearly smirks at my demand, “Fine, that is my other project, something you are not likely to see for quite some time.”

Hmm, but I will see it eventually? Probably when I’m meant to destroy the Barrier. But… it’s a kid? Why? Maybe it’s another Perseverance SOUL; he’s probably making that kid experience some bad memories. What else would it be? Does the project have to do with the holes in his hands? They did appear once I began to prove my decency at magic. Maybe he’s just as crazy as I think and is just trying to mess with me. I keep forgetting that lies are always a possibility with him.

“Well, I can’t wait to meet the kid,” I say, pretending to sound uninterested, as if the kid isn’t nearly as fascinating as I am.

“You may want to broaden your expectations,” he says before walking away.

I roll my eyes with a shrug, cryptic as always, that mysterious skeleton.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may not seem like it, but Gaster's actually enjoying their conversations.   
> (Little does Krista know that numbers have their own symbols in Wingdings too.)  
> One can only wonder who that kid was...


	29. A New Encounter

For the next two weeks, we fall into a pattern of interactions. He shows up an hour after the lights turn on, I get him to recite his alphabet, he tries to infuriate me with tricky questions about my past, and then he leaves with the final word. Some days, I get lucky and he tells me different words in his language, making it easier for me to imagine how full conversations would sound. Other days, he gets entertainment when I’m on the verge of yelling about my horrible father. I hate how he has a way with phrasing questions that make me reveal more details than I’d like. While most of his questions would seem petty in his eyes, as he clearly doesn’t care  _ why _ I’m damaged, they’re crushing to me as I have to think over the vaguest possible answers. Of course, I get so aggravated that vague is the last word I’d associate with my reactions. I think now he only cares about  _ how _ damaged I am, since apparently being worse off is better for his purposes, how nice. All of his questions are specifically designed to anger me, phrased almost like accusations as to why I never fought back. At least he hasn’t said anything about Mable, I think we both know that would push me far enough to attempt killing him the next time he turns off the lasers.

I try to get him to answer more of my burning questions when I ask if he can just recite his language every day. But of course, he said that violated the deal, forcing me to limit my questions to one a day as long as I don’t want him asking any more about my past.

For the rest of my time, I alternate between magic practice and studying his font. In the magic department, I get pretty good at defensive and manipulative skills, but not so much in the weapons ones. I can only seem to form blades, no other types of objects. Perhaps it’s psychological. After all, I have gotten a little gun shy. I don’t think it matters much anyway, who needs magical guns? I can form anything that has a sharp edge, including spears, arrows, and even maces. Although, the idea of using a mace to pummel somebody to death is a little too terrifying to me. If it comes down to defending myself, I’d say swords are the best option. 

I’m not even going to consider trying to create a whip, like guns, it’s a weapon that hits too close to home. I wouldn’t want to inflict pain on others with weapons that have hurt me too. Although, I honestly don’t want to hurt anyone in any way. I’m not my father. I’m doing this more-so because the scientist wants me to. However, I still don’t get  _ why _ . How am I supposed to destroy the Barrier with weapons? Yet he still makes unexplained demands that I should keep it up. I even asked him one time, and he simply said it’s best to be prepared for any possibility, whatever that means. 

I’m glad that he doesn’t demand it too much though; he only made a comment when I avoided weapons for a whole week. Instead, I’m strengthening my shields by using them to protect objects other than myself. I even get my marker out into the hallway by shaping it around a gap in the lasers. My manipulative magic is what I find most entertaining; lifting objects without needing to touch them is every human’s dream to some degree. While I haven’t risked using my magic on him yet, I did try to use it on the lasers when he was around one time. Unfortunately, that was a mistake as he threw me into a wall, warning that there would be dire consequences if I tried anything.

If only I could find some way around his damn blue magic, I would be able to get out of here. I guess I’d be more likely to improve my magic if I was around other people who had it too. That must be how he can sense SOULs. The greater other people’s powers are, the greater yours can be. You could test each other and use their abilities to improve upon your own. How unfortunate that I’m stuck in a cage with nothing but silence to challenge me.

I’m surprised that he hasn’t objected me to any more sessions or memory tests. Based on his comment over a month ago, I would’ve thought they’d increase. I’d think he’d want to torture me more than by just feeding me once a day. I’m not one to complain, but seriously, even at home we usually had a  _ meal _ a day. Or at least a few snacks. Here, it’s just a granola bar or an apple. I’m beginning to believe it might be worth asking for a sandwich, but I think my pride is making me hold out longer than my desperation. While I haven’t lost  _ too _ much weight while I’ve been here, considering my body’s fairly used to a lack of nourishment, I’m still concerned that I could die of starvation. I was underweight even when I lived on the Surface, now it’s getting kind of ridiculous. 

I remember Matt and Bonnie’s suspicions when they first met me, baffled that I was so tiny at fifteen. I just told them I had a super high metabolism, yet the fact that I never brought a lunch did contradict my claim. Despite my protests, Bonnie usually allowed me to take any extra food home, stating that a single parent shouldn’t have to worry about making dinner when he was busy with work all day. That was a lie I hated telling her. I wouldn’t admit it to her but hopes of getting food was sort of the reason why I wanted to work at her restaurant.

If they saw me now they definitely wouldn’t buy my “high metabolism” excuse. Anyone would think I either have a disease or someone’s not feeding me properly. Yeah, I’ve definitely not had a good guardian for the past three months.

Thankfully, other than some slight weight loss, the lack of food hasn’t affected anything else. I’ve heard about people losing hair and fingernails if they don’t get enough nutrition. Fortunately, my hair remains long and soft, and my nails are as bad as they’ve always been. Maybe it’s my ability to use magic that is subconsciously helping me. I guess the only other side effect may be that I’m sleeping more often than I did at home. I usually got about four hours most nights, now I think I’m getting the full eight, probably more.

Not only has the sleep been better, but I’m grateful for the ability to learn his font, it keeps my mind sharp. I also try to come up with some math problems to do, a way to keep my left brain at the same pace as my right. Although I’ve never been very good at straight up logic, it’s too cut and dry for me. But I think I do enough to keep my mind healthy, if one could call it that. You-Know-Who keeps my sarcasm at a steady level, I think I’m enjoying the ability to freely use it a bit too much. At home, I was not very sarcastic with Mable, afraid that it would probably make her think I was just like Father. I couldn’t use sarcasm with him since that was bound to lead to punishment. 

The only time I ever let that side of my personality shine was when I was with Matt. Our discussions helped me disguise my pain from home as we bantered with playful jokes. He was the only person who ever knew me that way. Matt saw a Krista who acted as if a lack of sleep meant she didn’t like mornings, rather than the truth that I was making sure Father didn’t kill Mable and me in our sleep. Matt didn’t force me to face any problems I didn’t want to discuss, and while I saw his concern, he never pushed his curiosity beyond two attempts. Instead, he’d always try to get me to laugh, or respond with some witty comment. I miss having a friend who only wanted me to be happy.

I don’t know why I’ve been thinking about him more, probably because I’m getting so lonely. I almost wish the SOULs were still around so I had someone friendly to talk to, but every time I think about them I’m glad they’ve been released from their prisons. I just wish the circumstances would’ve been better. 

I put an  _ X _ through today’s date on the calendar, April eighth, twenty days from Mable’s eleventh birthday. I almost want to cry, both at the fact that this will be the first birthday that she’s gone and simply the fact at how long I’ve been here. But I hold the tears back as I begin to focus on the day’s first round of font studying. It’s best to save my emotions for the next session, whenever that will come. Even though it’s pretty much pointless by now, I still want to appear as if this place hasn’t fazed me as much as it has. I still have a decent amount of dignity.

He’s already made his visit for the day, surprising me with an orange and angering me with a question about my necklace. I swear he has a new trick to upset me every day.

At least I’m gaining a few tricks myself; he still doesn’t know how well I’ve comprehended his language. I can translate the whole alphabet in my head before he even says it, and I’ve memorized the symbol for every letter. I can now write full paragraphs without even glancing at the key. Of course, I keep them very vague as I write simple stories about animals and nature that wouldn't mean anything to him other than getting images of the Surface. I’ve never been very good at coming up with stories that wouldn’t be considered unimaginative.

My biggest obstacle now is just understanding spoken sentences. While I can get a decent amount of simple words, I think a broader vocabulary is going to take a while. I guess it’s a good thing I have time.

About a half hour into my usual paragraph writing, my head jerks up when I hear footsteps down the hallway. What stuns me is that they’re  _ not his _ . Instead of the even, calculated strides of infuriating precision, these steps are quick and frantic, lighter than those of someone wearing shoes.

I jump up and get as close to the lasers as possible, yet I don’t see anything as a sharp zap jolts me. I back away, biting my lip in the suspense. The steps slow down the closer they get, and my heart jumps when a little skeleton appears on the other side of the beams. 

My first thought is that this skeleton looks nothing like the one I’m familiar with. It’s about a foot shorter than me, with a white dot in each eye socket. It’s wearing a pale green hospital gown that puffs out from its body. Its skull is rounder than the scientist’s, and its teeth are turned up in a permanent smile. However, it’s not scary at all, especially when its face contorts in confusion when it looks at me.

“Uh, hi,” I say with a tiny wave, unsure of what else to do. “Who are you?”

The skeleton’s eyes turn light blue and it takes a step back. “ _ What  _ are you?” it- he, based on the voice- asks in the scientist’s language. It’s not quite as terrifying coming from him than the scientist, given that the skeleton before me speaks in a higher-pitched child’s voice.

I should’ve guessed he wouldn’t be able to understand me, go figure. But I’m surprised I so easily understand him, maybe I’m better at this language than I thought.

I’m about to pick up a paper and write to him, hoping he’s literate, when I hear the all too familiar footsteps down the hall. The skeleton’s eyes flare blue even more with the faintest hint of purple, and I wave to the right for him to go, hoping he understands my meaning. He gives me one last glance of confusion before taking off to his left, hopefully towards a safer place. 

The scientist shows up across from me a few seconds later with a dark glare. He glances at me as if the little skeleton running away was somehow my fault.

I lift a finger as if it will make him wait for a moment before saying, “I have a question,” in an innocent voice.

He scoffs and walks down the hall in the direction of the little skeleton. Hmm, no surprise there. I hope the kid will be alright. What is he even doing here? Was he the one screaming two weeks ago? Are the two of them related? Is that why he cut those holes in his palms? I’d think since monsters aren’t composed of much physical matter that a part of their bodies would be considered a piece of their SOULs. That way he would have created a new living skeleton who was his own being. Isn’t that how the skeletons have continued to exist ever since the humans first created them?  

So… why did he even create him? I doubt he’s the loving type who just wanted a son. There’s got to be some other explanation. Is the kid his other project? Why would he want to utilize his own kind as a tool to destroy the Barrier?

I write down all my questions in his font, trying to find the one that seems most important for me to ask. Of course, they all do if I really want to satisfy my curiosity, but I’m able to narrow them down to three.  _ Who is that kid? What are you doing to him? What is his purpose? _

I wrap myself in my blanket and sit to watch the lasers, waiting for my explanation. As the hours pass, my frustration grows as nothing but silence greets me. When the lights go out, I curl my fingers around my marker, wishing I could punch him in the face. Of course he won’t give me an explanation today. Why  _ would _ he?

I think I take quick naps throughout the night as my subconscious transforms thoughts into dreams, meshing reality and fantasy together. I imagine confronting him about the kid and he dodges all my questions, warping them into his own. The game feels like it never ends, with me as the inevitable loser.

I jolt awake when the lights turn on, rubbing the sleep from my heavy eyes. I need to be alert if I’m going to get what I want. 

An hour passes... then two... then three. My stomach growls, knowing I’ve exceeded my normal fasting time. Where is he? 

I try to distract myself by looking over the font book, wondering what that little skeleton’s could be. He seemed soft spoken, with not much authority or demand in his voice. I think I can at least conclude that he’s a lowercase type. But… is his font a cipher? He spoke in the exact same language as the scientist’s. Maybe it’s just because that’s the only language he’s learned and his actual font would be written in normal letters.

I scan each font in the book, having zero certainty on how I could even begin to deduce which one is his. I guess it doesn’t matter much. Besides, confirming his font would be confirming his name, and I doubt that’s what You-Know-Who wants.

It takes another hour before I finally hear footsteps. I jump up to my feet and cross my arms, trying to convey disappointment with a squint.

When he shows up, I notice he has another drawstring bag. It’s probably filled with food so he can forget me for another two weeks. Prisoners are such a chore to keep up with. How unfortunate that SOULs don’t keep their original power when their hosts die. Otherwise he wouldn’t have to worry about the inconvenience of my silently demanding presence.

“You know, if you want me to be able to even  _ walk _ to the Barrier, you might want to consider visiting more often,” I snap.

He tosses the bag into my cell, looking slightly exhausted. 

“So, I have three questions concerning the little guy from yesterday. That is, if you’re up to the challenge of discussing it.”

“I have no desire to fulfill your curiosity when there are more important issues I have to deal with,” he sighs.

“So you don’t want to talk for once? Interesting, I’d think you’d want to upset me some more considering you’re so good at it,” I hiss.

He squares his shoulders, anger sneaking out from behind his mask of passiveness. “Keep in mind that our agreement was just to humor you, considering how desperately you want to be treated as an equal. It’s an illusion only your childish mind will see.”

“I never said we were equals, it’s beyond obvious that we’re not. I just wanted a guarantee that you would actually answer my questions for once, because I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but the walls aren’t very responsive.”

He keeps a steady glare on me, and I glare right back. I’m so sick of him and this place. I want some damn answers, I want someone I can talk to who is actually  _ friendly _ , and I want freedom more than anything.

“I will return in two weeks, try to entertain yourself in the meantime,” he says before turning away.

“Oh so that’s it?” I yell after him. “You know you can’t just ignore me and then expect cooperation! You might be surprised by how resilient humans can be!”

“I am never surprised,” he says before disappearing around a corner.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know in the comic it's actually a few years from the time the boys are created to Gaster's fall, but in my interpretation they grow much quicker and reach what could be considered "teen years" within six months.  
> I've seen many people write Sans' dialogue in complete lowercase, but I'm just going to keep proper grammar for both him and Papyrus.  
> This situation is wearing on everyone...


	30. A Strawberry's Worth of Improvement

As expected, the bag was full of two weeks’ worth of snacks and water, one for each day. As unexpected, he gave me an entire empty notebook with a purple pen. I’m not sure if I should thank him or yell at him.

I go through the same motions as before: studying, magic, and sleeping. My main goal is trying to either rip the vent off the wall or deactivate the lasers. Surprisingly, I think I’ve made more progress with the lasers than the seemingly easier choice of the vent. I think he probably sealed it with something like cement considering how impossibly unmovable it is. If I want to get it off the wall I’ll probably have to be able to destroy objects first, a feat that I‘m not sure I want to tackle. The lasers, however, are slightly more flexible. I’ve been able to see that some of the beams are weaker than others, and that there’s a pattern to how they move. If I want to turn them off, then I need to destroy the magical generators in the walls that keep them on. 

Just like the ease of understanding his spoken language, I feel like my senses have changed in order to become more attuned to magic. I can almost see how the magic moves, and what’s stabilizing it. Hence, why I can tell that generators are keeping the beams on.

I feel like this understanding has been quietly building over time only to manifest when I feel more confident that I can get out of here. The more I understand my surroundings, the better chances I have of leaving. Perhaps he was right that learning the new language would help me become more attuned to my magic. 

That’s why I’m almost not surprised when I sense new a magical aura almost a week after he leaves me in isolation. It starts as a flicker, and then my head snaps up when I feel the force of how the magic moves. This is new, which I guess could be translation for good.

A few moments later, I hear the same footsteps as the kid’s racing down the hallway. I jump up to my feet and grab my notebook to write in, maybe I can try to communicate with him this time.

The same little skeleton stops in front of my cell, and when he sees me, only his left eye glows this time while the right is a black pit. Does that mean he’s not as scared? I give him a small smile and he takes a step closer.

“What are you?” he asks again.

I start writing my answer down, but speak at the same time, hoping he’ll get I can’t say the language out loud like him.

“I am a human, and my name’s Krista.”

I hold the notebook out to him and he squints to read it through the lasers.

“A human? How are you trapped here? I thought he said humans were powerful.” 

So he’s literate  _ and  _ he knows some history. Just what is his purpose if he’s educated? Why would it matter to teach a test subject anything if he’s only meant for one purpose? 

“Well, it’s a long story, but I’d rather know about you. Why are you down here?”

When he reads my next question, his eye dims back to a white pupil and one appears in his right. Does that mean he’s more relaxed?

“I’ve always been here, my whole life,” he says, seeming to hate that fact.

“Oh, but you don’t know why?”

The skeleton shakes his head, “He tells us we’re things, meant for a purpose we wouldn’t understand.”

Wait,  _ us _ ? So there’s more than just him?

“What do you mean by ‘us?’”

“Me and my brother, it’s always been the two of us against him.”

So if it’s just the two of them, then they were most certainly created with what he cut from his hands. I think  _ why _ is just my biggest question now.

“So, he lets you roam the hallways?”

“No, last time I snuck out when he was distracted during a learning session, and this time he told me to try to hide somewhere so he’d find me. I’m suspicious that he’s just trying to prove that no matter where we’d go even  _ if _ we did get out, he’d still find us. So I thought I’d come back here and waste some time, there’s no point in humoring him. Besides, I’m curious.”

I guess that proves he’s just as much of a prisoner as I am.

“So, why can’t you talk like me?” he asks.

“Well-” as I start writing, I hear footsteps down the hall. Not only that, but I also feel a magical aura much more powerful than the kid’s. It’s almost overwhelming. How is it that in less than a week I’ve suddenly become  _ this _ aware of magic? 

The kid’s smile widens in mockery as he turns toward the scientist.

“I see you made no attempt at hiding,” he says, unsurprised.

“Why would it matter?” the kid scoffs. “It’s not like there’s anywhere I could go.”

“True, but I expected you to comply so my theory would be confirmed.”

“Let me guess, it’s that my bro and I will never get out of here.”

“Correct, to a certain extent.”

“Then there’s nothing more to prove, looks like you win again,” the kid says scornfully.

The scientist just turns, motioning for the kid to follow. He gives me one last glance, the faintest hint of concern on his face before leaving.

I wish we could’ve discussed more, but at least I have a few questions answered. I almost want to smack myself for not asking what his name was, although I doubt it’d be his font. The scientist probably calls them experiments or something.

I’m suddenly very curious about the brother. What does he look like? Is he just as angry as the one I’ve already met? Probably. Being treated as an object to be tested on rather than as a living being would make anyone angry. I would know.

I’m still surprised that I actually understood everything they said. How did I get so good at that? I’m beginning to think that magic is simply the explanation for everything that doesn’t make sense to me.

I mull over my questions for the next week, just waiting for his return. Is this my life now? A waiting game? Every day I attempt to destroy the lasers, but they’re always too powerful. I think the lack of food is him purposely keeping me weak so I can’t get out on my own. I bet right before my usefulness is finally put to the test he’ll actually give me a meal for once, creating just enough energy for me to accomplish what he wants.

I never considered it before, but what if trying to destroy the Barrier kills me? It would make sense with something that powerful, especially because I’m not even close to the magnitude of strength a Determination would have. And if two little skeletons are supposedly his other factor to contribute to the Barrier’s destruction, then there’s definitely no chance. I could be underestimating them, but if none of us can overpower him, then there’s no hope when going against a centuries old magical Barrier.

I _ have _ to get out of here, and the more I think about it, the more I want the two boys to come with me. Even though they don’t really know me, I think they’d see our interests aligned in escaping.

I’m still not sure of where I’ll go, considering there’s no guarantee of what’s beyond this place. There’s a likelihood that I’ll get caught and sent to the king. But if that girl is right, and I’m supposedly meant to see the Determination child, then I can at least hope I’ll find somewhere safe to stay in the meantime.

On the twenty-second, he finally shows up, unceremoniously surprising me with a bowl of strawberries.

“What’s this?” I ask, taking the bowl.

“You’ve never seen strawberries before?” he asks, as if I’m an idiot.

“No, it’s just different from the usual blandness of life in this cell.”

I take a small bite of one, savoring the juicy tang as my mouth begins to hurt from the sudden rush of flavor. 

“So,” I say with a short pause, “I’m assuming the boys have names that would not lead to emotional attachment. You know, like with pets if you name them then you begin to care. Although I don’t think you’d be good at caring about anything so maybe they actually do have names.”

“It’s no surprise that you actually communicated with Subject One,” he says.

“Ah, so you did take the no-name route to avoid attachment. Aww, you’re softer than I thought. Let me guess, the brother is named Subject Two. How clever, just like the names of all the places in the Underground.”

He crosses his arms with a quiet sigh. I think he missed me.

“This coming Friday you will have another session; I suggest you prepare for it.”

He’s never warned me about  _ anything _ before, what does he hope to accomplish by telling me that? To worry me? I glance at my calendar, remembering that that day is Mable’s eleventh birthday. Of course he would make note of the date, I didn’t even think about what he’d do with that information when I wrote it. Damn my unbreakable habits.

I look back at him, my sarcasm disappearing. “That’s not fair.”

“It is entirely fair as the decision is mine to make. Besides, I would think you’d want to leave this cell after nearly a month of confinement.”

“It would be a nice change of pace, however you could have planned for any other day.”

“Unfortunately, that is the only free day in my upcoming schedule, it just so happens that it lies on a date you are sensitive about.”

I swear I hear the laughter in his voice. I scoff, “Of course, what a coincidence.”

I gather my blanket around my shoulders and jump up on my bed, deciding that this conversation is over. I pinch the leaves of a new strawberry and continue to take tiny bites, managing my food has always been an old habit. Thankfully it’s one that won’t put me at a disadvantage.

“You’re not going to ask any questions?” he asks, seeming annoyed with my disrespect.

“Nope, I think I’m fine for the day. Besides, I bet your schedule is too hectic for you to have time to talk with me.”

“It’s not like you to pass up an opportunity,” he says.

“How very true, because you know me  _ so  _ well.”

“How about this, for every thirty questions you ask me, I will only ask you one.”

One of my eyebrows shoots up and I finally look at him. “You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“I believe you feel restricted by our deal, and you only enacted it as a way to gain a few explanations from me. Now that you have proven your value from strengthening your magic, I am feeling more generous.”

“What makes you think my magic has improved?”

“Your SOUL’s aura has intensified nearly tenfold since the last time we had a conversation. I’ve never seen this much improvement in such a short amount of time. As a reward for your dedication, even if it is forced, I will be less cryptic.”

While I feel a bit happy that I can finally run through my ever-growing list of questions, I’m also insulted at how he makes it seem like he’s making a big sacrifice in order to cooperate with me.

“Hmm, you know there are other rewards I would’ve been happier with. Like an actual meal a day or maybe even never having to do a session again. But that’s too much to ask for, right? You can’t expect me to be very grateful when you just told me a minute ago that I’ll be having a session on my dead sister’s  _ birthday _ .”

I bite down on the inside of my lip when I realize what I just said. That was the first time I actually admitted out loud that Mable’s dead. Sure I’ve spoken about her in past tense, but that’s different from outright stating that she’s gone. I feel like there’s some sort of finality in saying that, but I bury the thought before it transforms into emotion.

“I did not expect you to be thankful, but I felt that you should know. While you may be irritated now, you will take advantage of this agreement soon enough,” he says matter-of-factly.

“Well obviously I will, but not now,” I snap.

“Very well then,” he says before walking away.

I roll my eyes and bite down on another strawberry. We both know his generosity means nothing, it’s just another way for him to show how much control he has. Too bad that I’ll make the tables turn eventually.


	31. Session Two: Moving On

I ignore him for the next five days, simply accepting my food before returning to my writing. He doesn’t say anything either and only briefly pauses to give me a chance to talk before leaving when I don’t say anything. It’s not like I don’t have questions, I do, but I feel like I should save them for after this upcoming session. In whatever way it goes, I feel like this next one is going to be even worse, considering the fact that it will be Mable’s birthday and that my magic might be becoming too powerful for my own good.

It’s not like I  _ want _ to be a powerful wielder of magic, but I will admit it feels good to have some sense of strength, however little it is. All I want now is to be skilled enough to leave this place. Which is why I don’t mind saving my questions, since I can tell I’m still not strong enough to attempt an escape yet. I also think his answers would just distract me, possibly warping the session down a rabbit hole of all the crazy theories and additional questions my mind would create.

The twenty-eighth finally arrives and I furiously draw an  _ X _ through the day’s block, as if it has already ended. I tell myself to just ignore what today is, that it doesn’t matter. Of course, the back of my mind screams for me to feel upset, but I bury my impending sadness.

I wait by the lasers and he shows up after about an hour. He doesn’t seem smug, as I would’ve expected. Instead he seems indifferent, as if he doesn’t care what will happen.

We walk through the halls in silence, eventually reaching the same room my last session was in. My stomach twists as he opens the door with the same dark gray key, and I back away a few steps without thinking. He raises an eye socket and I glare, remembering what happened last time.

“Where’s the needle?” I ask, anger biting in my hoarse voice.

He pulls a short syringe out of his coat pocket, the liquid inside of it glows a dark red hue.

“Is that what you used last time?” 

“No, the previous formula was lighter in color,” he simply says.

“And that means?”

“It was far more diluted, a mixture less potent than this new version.”

“And what exactly is this new formula composed of?”

“Liquid Determination, enough that you will feel the fullest intensity of its effects. Like before, this substance was engineered to target one’s weaknesses. However, I had decided to make the previous one less effective since your magical abilities were still very suppressed. But now, I have no doubts that you will be able to handle its power without spiraling into madness.”

I scoff, “I thought you didn’t have Determination.”

“All humans possess the seven traits to some degree, including Determination. My original intent was to extract enough from useless humans that it would equate to an actual SOUL. Unfortunately, there must be a proper vessel to contain the Determination itself, not just a human’s body, but also the very essence of an individual being. A collection of scraps from several different humans has proven to be worthless. The only usable form of Determination on the Barrier is a SOUL. So, I decided to put the collection to other uses, and it has proven to be very beneficial.”

“How do you just...  _ engineer _ a trait to do what you want?”

“Simple, since humans are no longer accustomed to magic, it is effortless to warp their traits. I redefine their purpose by tapping into the darker strengths they possess and direct them towards my own intentions.”

I get the feeling that it’s actually a lot harder to repurpose a SOUL than he’s making it seem, but still, he was able to do it. 

“So did you do that when those kids were still alive?”

“No, it is impossible to change a SOUL’s intentions when its human has even a fraction of control. The only way to repurpose a trait is to kill its host. Without the human’s jurisdiction, the trait is susceptible to any manipulation others inflict upon it. Some have fought back, some have even attempted to work together, but they have always failed in the end.”

Confusion hits me as I look no further than what happened to Mable.

“Are you saying I wanted to kill my sister?” I snap, my voice nearly catching on  _ kill _ . “Because that was most certainly against my intentions.”

“No, I am saying it is impossible to make a SOUL  _ want _ to do anything against its will. The control a monster can have over a human is different from what humans can do to each other. From my experience, a monster cannot force a human to do anything against their will while they are alive. We can restrain humans, we can even harm their SOULs, but we cannot tell them what to do to fit our needs. What happened to you was not a repurposing of your SOUL, it was an overriding of who you were to fit the intentions of a SOUL more powerful.”

Hmm, I guess that makes sense. The only good thing out of that knowledge is that he can’t control me beyond blue magic at least. I don’t think he’d risk ripping out my SOUL anymore, considering how strong I’ve gotten.

I feel a spike of fear when I realize our discussion has been stalling my session. I’m not even sure if that was his intention or mine.

I hold out my hand for the syringe and he raises an eye socket.

“Look if I’m going to do this session then I want to start it myself. I don’t think you’ve realized this but it actually hurts to get stabbed in the neck by a needle. So if you don’t mind, I’m fine with injecting the substance myself.”

He lightly scoffs, but hands the syringe over anyway, making sure the bones of his fingers are as far from mine as possible. 

I grab it and lightly place the needle on the largest vein in my forearm. “Can I use my arm instead? Or no because my neck would make sure it hit my brain faster?”

“The trait will take effect no matter where it enters the bloodstream. Do what you want,” he says crossing his arms.

I slide the needle under my skin, lightly biting the inside of my lip to cope with the sting. I can practically feel the heaviness of the Determination poisoning me as it spreads throughout my body in seconds.

I pull the needle out once the syringe is empty and toss it at him before walking into the room. I smirk when I hear it clatter to the ground; someone will have to pick that up. He scoffs and slams the door shut, leaving me locked in the darkness.

I close my eyes, counting my breaths in the silence. I’m okay, there’s nothing to worry about. This is just a little obstacle in my way, it will make me stronger. After the last session my magic became immensely better, this one should be enough to get me out of here.

“I didn’t take you for an optimistic one, Krista,” my father snarls in my ear.

I sigh, my shoulders beginning to cave in from fear. And so it begins.

I create a sword and slice to my left, the direction he spoke from. He merely steps back and my weapon disappears, as if I’m losing the ability to create one.

“Do you think your childish defenses are enough to hurt me? No, I will never leave you, because you will never beat me.”

I square my shoulders back, it’s always intimidating the first time I hear his voice, but once he starts bragging, my anger is enough to erase the fear.

“Then stop dodging and destroy me once and for all,” I taunt.

He quirks an eyebrow and I feel even more heaviness in my blood, I bet that’s the Determination trying to crush me. But I’m done with being afraid.

I run towards him, vaguely remembering how badly this ended last time, but I still persevere. 

Mable appears in front of him and I shove the phantom of her away, refusing to take my sight from his gray eyes. I lunge forward and stab him in the neck with a small dagger, shoving him to the ground in the process. My father laughs as blood rises in his throat. “You can do this all you want, but it won’t change anything.”

He disappears and the darkness changes into the Bonnie’s restaurant. I blink at the room in shock. Why am I here?

The room looks moderately packed, about the amount of business I’d expect on a Friday night, but my scanning stops when I see my family. It’s all of us: Mom, Dad, Mable, and me. There’s a pink balloon with an eleven written on it in a swirly font tied to Mable’s chair. My parents look the way they did when I was six, their faces bright with smiles and their eyes shining with joy. My father- my dad, his eyes are light green, and he has a full head of blond hair. My mom gazes at my sister and me with pride, her love for us as clear as a crystal glass. 

Mable and I look the way we did a few months ago, but far more happy and healthy than we ever were. Her laughs ring throughout the restaurant, loving and free. Her eyes gaze at my dad with happiness, not fear.  

And me, I’m happy. There’s no anger or fear in the eyes of the Krista I see. She jokes with her dad, looking at him with wonder and love, her trust entirely in his hands. She is spending time with her family, not bothering to think about her job at the restaurant, because she doesn’t even work there. She never needed to work there, and she never had to.

My throat tightens at the scene, this is most certainly not real, this is what my life would have been like, if Mom had never died. But did it all rest on her? Or would my father have turned eventually? Was our misery inevitable?

I start to back away but my shoulder hits someone behind me. I look up and see my real father, the reality I was meant to experience.

He grabs my shoulder and forces me to look at the happy scene, his nails digging into my scars that feel freshly opened.

“Would you look at that, sweetheart? It’s the fantasy you hoped for every single day. What a sad tragedy that you weren’t spoiled like those girls over there. They would have woken up to reality soon enough.”

I shove him away and the scene transforms into the field I crossed to get to the mountain. The sun sets behind him as he stands behind two plaques in the ground. One reads my mother’s name, and the other, Mable’s.

My throat dries at the sight of them, the heavy reality of their deaths weighing on my shoulders. We never had a headstone for my mother, she was buried somewhere in the woods, a place my father never showed us. But now her name stares up at me like a brand, as if everything horrible that ever happened to her was  _ my _ fault. And Mable… there’s not just her name, but on her headstone is also written,  _ “Murdered by her own selfish sister.” _

I look up at my father and he points a gun at me.

“Now, it’s about time you were buried with the rest of them. It’s what you deserve anyway, don’t you think?”

I raise my head, fighting the heaviness that is now pounding through my body. My head feels like it’s underwater as I weakly say, “I still have reasons to live.”

He scoffs and shoots me in the shoulder without any warning. My whole body jolts from the impact, and I scream from the piercing pain, grabbing my bleeding arm with my left hand.

“Please tell me dear, why should  _ you _ live while your family decays underground?” he snaps.

I try to catch my breath as the pressure increases in my head to the point I can’t hold it up anymore. I crouch down on the grass, fighting to stay awake as my vision prickles black. My father says something else, but I can no longer hear him as other voices join a chorus of accusations.

_ Why couldn’t you save her? _

_ How could you be so selfish? _

_ Just forget about freedom, you’re meant to die in the darkness. _

_ Give up, there’s no reason to live. _

_ You’ve never cared for anyone, you’ve only thought about yourself. _

My head snaps up as I think of all the reasons against the voices. 

I couldn’t prevent what happened; there was no way I could’ve saved her. Wanting to live is not selfish, it is a natural right. There are reasons to live, even if it’s just so I can see the sun again. I have always cared for Mable, I cared for my mother, I even cared for my father, once. The scars on my back are proof enough that I’m not afraid to back down when someone I love is in danger.

Everything leads to one conclusion for me: life is meant to be experienced for its happiness. Even when there are horrible days and painful losses, there will always be a time when I will smile again. There are so many trials and exhausting challenges that I will have to face, but I can persevere through them, if only to feel joy once more.

I have never been an overly positive person. I have wanted to be rid of my life so many times, hoping a new one will magically appear. I’ve learned that not even magic can fix my problems; I have to find the strength within myself to leave my darkness behind and find a better reality.

The scenery changes and my father’s hateful face disappears. I feel the pressure within me lighten and I stand up, monetarily forgetting the pain in my shoulder. 

Mable stands in front of the entrance to a pear orchard, her long brunette hair gently swaying in the breeze. She turns to me with a smile so genuine it reaches her eyes, and she holds out a hand to me. 

“Come on big sis, they’re finally ripe,” she says.

My heart aches and I approach her with caution, my body slightly shaking in apprehension. For some reason, I realize what this place means and why the Determination would force me to experience it. I take her warm hand in my freezing one, making sure it’s not my left that is coated in blood. 

“Are you okay?” she asks. “This is our dream isn’t it?”

“No Mable,” I whisper. “It’s  _ your _ dream, one that I can’t follow you into.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, genuinely confused.

I wrap her into a hug, my eyes dripping with tears. I need to let her go.

“Krista? What’s wrong? Come on, you said you would never leave me!”

“I did,” I whisper, “but you’re gone little sis, and I can no longer protect you.”

She squirms in my arms and pushes me away; a hollow feeling fills my chest as I realize this is how it feels to finally bury someone.

“Krista come on!” she screams, trying to pull me into the orchard. I look up and see my parents waiting among the trees, their faces bearing sad smiles.

“Krista please don’t leave me! I don’t want to go alone!” she whimpers.

“I know,” I whisper, closing my eyes, “but you have to be strong. And one day, I’ll see you again, I promise.”

I hug her one last time, kissing her hair with my tear-stained lips, before letting her go.

I open my eyes and there’s nothing but darkness again. I blink a few times before a replica of me suddenly appears. It’s almost like I’m looking into a mirror, but she doesn’t move when I do. She crosses her arms and glares at me, as if I’m a disappointment to myself.

“So, here we are. We never change, do we?” the Krista asks me.

“I guess not,” I say, trying to hide my growing fear. If there’s one thing I’ve never wanted, it’s to see a cruel version of myself judge my crimes, as if we’re two different people. 

She scoffs, her eyes squinting at me in disgust. I guess that’s the face I’ve made to the scientist. I’ll admit: it is quite insulting.

“Let’s see how bad the damage has been. You allowed your father to fall into irreversible depression, causing him to become abusive towards the only person you cared about. You weren’t strong enough to fight back, so Mable’s now dead because of you. And, oh yeah, those four SOULs are now all dead because you couldn’t contain your stupid curiosity. The only question now is how much damage will you create if you continue to live?”

For some reason, her words don’t hurt the same way the whispers did. Of all the people to accuse me of being a horrible person, I would think myself as the best candidate. However, to actually see my disappointed face, to finally face my own insecurities, I don’t feel as upset as I would have thought. The longer I watch her, the weaker she seems to be, almost as if she’s transforming into the girl I was just a few months ago.

The reflection of me looks so small, so fragile, as if even a gentle hug would snap her bones. Her hateful eyes are not enough to mask the heavy exhaustion weighing underneath her lashes. Her narrow shoulders are slightly hunched forward as she tries to hide winces from her bleeding scars. Her threadbare T-shirt and jeans hang limply from her skeletal frame, as careless as her father who hit her for spending “his” money. Her body slightly trembles with shivers as she clearly fights to hide them.

Everything about her screams the image of a broken, terrified child who just needs someone to love her. She didn’t ask to become this way, but she still played the cards that life dealt to her. Of course, she lost everything in the end, but did she have a choice?

“I think it’s time we leave that Krista behind, don’t you think?” I ask her.

She attempts to hide her confusion, but I see it as pressure begins to build in my head again.

I blink and she transforms into my father with a knife pressed to Mable’s neck.

“Can you save her?” he snaps.

I take a deep breath, almost smirking at how the Determination is getting desperate, trying to grasp at any wisps of terror I have left.

“She is safe from you now, and that’s all I could ever ask for, even if the circumstances didn’t turn out the way I wanted.”

He scoffs and shoves Mable to the side, appearing directly in front of me the next time I blink.

“Then can you save yourself?” he asks, pointing the blade at my throat.

“I will,” I whisper, more to myself than him. “I’m almost there.”

He snarls in anger, preparing to slice my throat open.

I close my eyes and sigh, feeling finally at peace with what happened to my family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Determination was trying to target all of her insecurities so they'd crush her, but Krista was able to subconsciously warp it into finding the closure she desperately needed.  
> Instead of reaching her breaking point like Gaster expected, she was able to heal some emotional wounds.


	32. Impossible Wishes

The pain never comes, even after a minute of waiting. My eyes remain shut in apprehension, slightly afraid that he’ll cut one out the second I open them. But there’s nothing as I wait in the silence. 

The pressure in my body eventually diminishes, leaving behind a mild headache. I finally open my eyes to nothing but darkness. I did it. I survived the session, and I didn’t lose myself.

The door opens and I turn to my right, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dim glow. The scientist stands there with his usual clipboard, his face emotionless.

I square my shoulders and walk into the hallway, attempting to display some level of strength. Unfortunately, I quickly realize how bad I hurt from the session. Both my head and shoulder pound with each heartbeat; and my nose begins to bleed seconds after I leave the room. It makes me wonder that there must be something about that dark room that keeps the Determination from wreaking physical havoc on my body. Maybe there’s some kind of magical aura that focuses the trait on just attacking my mental weaknesses rather than my physical ones.

He doesn’t seem to care about my condition as he walks down the hallway without a word. I scoff and pat my nose with my shirt’s sleeve, staining the dark gray a red hue.

When we reach my cell, I walk inside and wrap myself in my blanket, careful not to get any blood on it. I realize that my hand is completely clean, no traces of the blood from my gunshot wound, which seems to be nothing more than a dull ache now.

I notice he’s still standing there, and I look up with an exhausted glare, wishing he would just leave already.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” I sigh.

“You maintained control for that entire session,” he states, slightly intrigued.

“So?”

“I have never seen a human overcome their weaknesses so easily, not even after twenty sessions.”

“Well, you learn something new every day,” I say, hoping my indifference will convince him to leave. All I want now is a shower and ten hours of sleep, not another round of cryptic conversing.

“The session has seemed to drain your wit though, what a disappointment.”

Is he seriously trying to get me to fight back? I’m exhausted! Am I not allowed to feel indifferent for one second? Why does he always force me to get defensive?

I sigh and give him a glare. “What do you want me to say? That I’d expect myself to be good at mental torture because I’m a Perseverant? Or maybe that you’re an idiot for believing otherwise because all you see is a helpless child? Is that what you want? Are you happy now? Can you finally leave me alone so I can sleep?”

“That was just the last bit of data I needed, do what you want now.”

He walks away and I sigh in frustration, my head pounding worse than before. I shrug the blanket off and grab some clean clothes from my duffel bag now resting underneath my bed.

I walk to the bathroom and slam the door shut, locking it with a trembling finger. I turn the shower on to its hottest temperature and throw my bloody shirt off, kicking it to the side in frustration. The rest of the body immediately begins to shake from both the cold and my rising anger.

I am seriously so sick of his taunting comments and indifferent tone. I hate his dumb little experiments meant to traumatize me with my past. How lucky for him that I didn’t have a good childhood, or else he might have actually had some work to do.

I’m sick of the silence of this place, the lack of change, the lack of color. I want to talk to other people. I want freedom. I want to  _ live _ , not survive. 

I step under the warm water, just on the verge of burning, but my freezing skin doesn’t care. I notice that where I was shot in the session is actually a dark bruise on my shoulder; its shade is almost the color of my eyes. I sigh and gently rub soap on it, hoping the injury won’t affect my ability to use magic. I doubt it, but the pain will be an annoyance.

Without thinking, I run my fingers over the scars on my neck and upper back. They’re not torn, as they felt in the session, but they do feel a bit more strained than usual. I guess a massage is way overdue for me, but of course that will never happen. Even if I did have the opportunity for one, there’d be no way for me to get away without explaining my scars. I bet the person would think they’d hurt me if they even touched a scratch, which I wouldn’t blame them for being afraid. After seeing myself in third person, even I’m a little scared of how frail I may be.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m back under the blanket in a clean shirt and jeans, my wet hair hanging over the edge of the platform to drip on the floor. Unfortunately, I feel more alert than before, as the heat from showers always make me wake up. But I feel confident it won’t take me long to shut down, I did have a session today after all.

To pass the time, my mind wanders back to Mable and the birthday she should have had today. I silently tap the rhythm of the “Happy Birthday” song on the platform, not daring to hum the tune. The feeling of being watched has hung heavily over my head ever since that camera appeared.

I think back to that scene in the restaurant, the false reality that we should have had. Was that just the Determination manipulating me? Or was that image what I truly wished today was like? I don’t know anymore, wishes just discourage me, because the only guarantee about them is that they’ll never come true.

It makes me think even further back, to the day Mable was born. There are only bits and pieces, but I remember them like they were yesterday. I was in the hospital waiting room with a friend of my parents’, confused as to why I couldn’t be with them, when a nurse finally approached us and said I could go to their room. Inside, my mother was propped up in bed by a stack of pillows, holding something wrapped in a pink blanket. My dad sat next to her, rubbing her shoulders with a gentle hand. When they saw me, their exhausted faces lit up, and Mom asked if I wanted to hold my new baby sister. They had me sit between them before passing her over, making sure I understood to support her head. 

Even though I was only four, I had no idea what love truly felt like until I saw her face. She had my dad’s rounded nose and my mom’s heart-shaped lips with a full head of silky black hair. I had seen other babies before, but I never cared for them in any way, I didn’t even think they were cute. But this girl… she made me believe in love at first sight.

“Her name is Mable Azalea,” my mother said.

I knew they had been planning on using Azalea, but they were unsure about a first name. Mable, it was the perfect name for a beautiful girl. I teared up when she tried to open her eyes, revealing a hint of light green irises. Her innocence made me feel older, creating a sense of responsibility for her safety. I wasn’t going to let anyone ever hurt her. That was a guarantee. Oh, how wrong I was. 

The more I think about my family, the emptier I feel. I hadn’t thought about it before, but I realize I have nobody now. No parents, no sister, no friends. I’m just alone, fighting to survive so I can live somewhere far away, most likely with no one by my side. The obvious question is why even continue living then? Of course, I think I’ve answered that, but I can’t help but feel hollow. 

All I can do is remain hopeful that I’ll find just one good friend someday. That’s all I need, one friend who will hold me when I’m tired; protect me when I’m afraid. A friend who will laugh with me and cry with me. I guess I could say that’s my one wish, and there’s no harm in making it since it won’t come true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gaster just wanted to see how far she could be pushed, considering how extreme her emotional instability was, and her refusal to break down in front of him was quite intriguing.
> 
> (Fun Fact: I originally didn't think to include a memory of the day Mable was born, but I recently became an aunt and had a chance to hold a baby for the first time (my niece! :D) and some of my feelings are what I incorporated into Krista (even though my feelings have developed over many years and hers are only over the span of about one, haha).) (And you've probably deduced this already but for clarification, because they have a SOUL color, a person's eyes will be that color when they are born rather than starting out as a different shade like in real life.)


	33. A Painful Field Trip

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was listening to this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VU7hjDPHkQg while writing this chapter. It doesn't apply to the content too much, although I did use the picture as a source for some inspiration (and of course, it's just a really great song!).

My head smacks against the platform and my eyes snap open instantly. When did I fall asleep? Why is my whole body throbbing with bites of pain?

I look to my left and he stands there with his arms crossed on the other side of the room. Hmm, I guess somebody missed throwing me into objects with his stupid magic. And he calls _me_ childish.

“Get up,” he snaps.

I roll my eyes and pull the blanket over my head. “You can’t make me have another session within a day, that’s just mean.”

“For your information, it is actually the thirtieth now. You slept all day yesterday,” he says in a bored tone.

I pull the blanket away and raise an eyebrow at him. “You’re serious?”

“One hundred percent. Now get up, I do not have all day.”

I sit up and swing my legs over, but I don’t stand. Instead, I roll my shoulders in an attempt to work some of the knots out, hoping the cracking sounds bother him.

“What time is it?” I ask.

“One-thirty.”

“Morning or night?”

“Why would that matter?”

“Because I’m trying to gauge how long it’s been since I last ate. You know, because that’s kind of important for a human’s survival.”

“It is one-thirty AM, the only time I have the opportunity for your task today.”

“I see, so it’s been about sixty hours since I last ate, gotcha. No I’m completely enthusiastic about this late night task when I’m practically starving to death.”

He sighs and throws two granola bars at me from his coat pocket. I catch them and nod as if he’s a child finally obeying an adult. “That’s better,” I take a bite of one after unwrapping it within seconds. “Now what’s this task that is apparently unachievable at a reasonable time of day?”

He walks out into the hallway and I follow, already on my second granola bar.

I don’t pay much attention to where we’re going, assuming this might be some sort of scare tactic or maybe another memory test out of spite. I don’t realize we’re in an entirely new area until he stops in front of a gray elevator door.

I stare, my eyes widening as he presses a button that opens the door. He steps inside the elevator and raises an eye socket at me, an order to follow. I cautiously walk inside and stand as far away from him as possible.

On the wall across from the door, a cream colored panel with nine different buttons catches my attention. The center one is labeled _Upper Lab_ with _Lower Lab_ beneath it, and two other buttons are labeled _New Home 1_ and _New Home 2_. For some reason, the rest of them are blank, as if someone intended for the elevator to go to many other places before they realized it wouldn’t work.

He hits a button that closes the doors before turning to the one titled _New Home 2_. My eyes widen, he’s taking me there? To that gray and white city the monsters have? Why? To finally kill me? To present me to the king himself? But why would he specifically do this at one-thirty in the morning?

I tap my fingers against my legs in apprehension, creating a rhythm to a song that doesn’t exist.

It only takes about a minute for the elevator to reach its destination, but it feels like ten hours of waiting. Probably because standing next to someone who has held me captive for the last three months is a bit awkward. I make sure to keep my eyes on anywhere but him, afraid that he might try to insult me which would lead to me attempting to attack him. While it feels like freedom is just within my grasp, especially now that I’m out of the lab, I have very little confidence in my survival skills. However, at the same time, I don’t want to waste this opportunity. An attempt is better than nothing.

I decide to make my move whenever we come back from this little trip, that way I can at least get a sense of my surroundings and can form a loose plan from there.

Once the elevator doors open, he turns right and walks forward without a word. I follow in silence, observing this strange new world.

Everything is gray and white, the shades darker than they were in the picture. It’s as if someone dimmed whatever lights that make this place visible. There’s a straight, dark gray path in front of us that leads to a left turn at the end of it. To the path’s left and right is a cavernous city, its buildings majestically structured, as if they were all meant to house royalty. Some buildings look like towers, others have domed roofs, and some look like modern day, perfectly rectangular structures. It’s a strange blend between ancient stone architecture and updated brick buildings.

Before I even have time to take the sight in, he turns left, leaving me to catch up. The next area is even more shocking to me than the city, its colors a huge juxtaposition to what I’ve become accustomed to in the past few months.

The room is a gigantic hall, its size making me feel tinier than an ant. The ceiling must be at least fifty feet high, and the floor must be twenty feet wide. The entire room glows with a golden light that pours in from seven enormous windows on the left wall. They all have a symbol imprinted on them. There’s a circle at the top with a pair of what appears to be wings on either side of it. A few feet below the circle are two triangles facing up and one in between them facing down. I bet those symbols are supposed to mean something, but I have no way of knowing what, it wasn’t in the history book.

I’m guessing that magic is the best explanation for how this place is lit, but why would only this room be lit up so bright? In between the windows and all along the right wall are huge pillars stretching up to the ceiling, their white-gray colors bathed in yellow light. There’s a checkered pattern on the floor, the colors alternating between yellow and dark orange in the light, but in the shadows of the pillars I can see they’re actually white and dark gray.

I’m so awestruck by the hall that I don’t even realize we’ve reached the end of it until he turns left and we travel down a dark gray hallway. Seriously, why is there such a lack of color around here?

We turn right and walk towards a dark entrance with a stone sign labeled _Throne Room_ on it in grand letters. My throat tightens, so I guess we are going to see the king. I’m not sure if I’m ready for whatever may come next.

He walks into the room without hesitation and I bite my lip, afraid of what I may be walking into, yet I still follow. I’m not sure what I would expect from a king’s throne room, if I didn’t know any better I would’ve thought that hall was it. I’m surprised when the room is practically a garden. There are large patches of dark green ivy that run up sections of the stone walls and cover most of the ground. Tiny purple flowers sprout up from the sea of green, adding some depth to the powerful color. The ivy eventually stops, yielding to the all too familiar golden flowers that surround a surprisingly small gold and purple throne. Light filters to the ground through the ivy leaves, but it’s much dimmer than the brightness of the hall.

The scientist continues to walk, not even glancing at the throne, his eyes set on the exit at the far end of the room. I follow, but stop when I notice something out of the corner of my eye, hidden in the shadows. There is a second throne with a white sheet over it, tucked underneath the ivy. Whose is that? The queen’s? Did she die? Or was it the throne of the prince who died? I feel like any questions I ask myself would just be like a dog chasing its tail, pointless and exhausting. Besides, I’ve got someone who may actually be reliable for once, he would know.

The next room is just an empty space surrounded by dark stone walls, completely devoid of life. We turn right and he stops at an entrance leading into an even darker room.

“This is your task for the day, figure out what it is you see in this room,” he says nodding to the entrance.

I squint in confusion, but walk through the door with him anyway, curious as to what I should be seeing.

There’s an immediate shock to my system when I’m through the entrance, sharp pain spreading throughout my body in waves. It’s most notably focused on my heart, I’m assuming because that’s also where my SOUL resides. But why?

I bite my lip to keep from crying out as tears prick in my eyes from the effort. I hope he doesn’t notice as I attempt to observe my surroundings.

The room is seemingly endless both in front of and behind me. There’s a wave of white light that runs through the walls before returning to darkness in an endless cycle that’s almost nauseating. At the far end, where the light and dark meet, I feel like I can almost see the night sky, or is it just my imagination?

“I see,” he says looking down at me.

Without thinking, I had clutched my heart, and I feel my face contorted in pain.

“You knew this would happen,” I snap at him.

“I had my suspicions,” he says.

“Why does it hurt?”

“Unfortunately for you it means your SOUL is very powerful. Monsters do not feel the power of this place, not even weak humans do, but someone like you… the results tend to vary.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Some humans gain power, others lose it, the results change with every SOUL. _How_ they are affected does not matter as much as how _intensely_ they are affected. While a human’s response to this place is intriguing, such as the fact that you reacted with pain, it is far more beneficial to see how intense that reaction is.”

 _Intense_ sure is a good word to describe this torture, I’m fighting to just stay on my feet.

“So you’ve got your answer, now can I leave?” I say, my words biting with anger.

“Not yet,” he says calmly.

I roll my eyes and back up towards the door; I don’t need to listen to him. We’re not in his controlled little prison anymore.

He grabs my SOUL with blue magic and I fight to keep moving, attempting to summon any strength through my haze of pain. For a moment, I actually feel his hold flicker, but his sudden lack of control surprises me so much I forget to take advantage of it. He regains focus, his power suddenly more forceful than before. I try to create a shield over my own SOUL and fail miserably when he easily crushes it, throwing me further down this hall of black and white. I scream from the intensity of the agony it brings, my heart feeling like it’s on the verge of shattering.

“Do you realize what this place is, little human?” he asks, his voice sounding like it’s shaking with rage.

I look up at him through my clouds of tears and spotty vision. What does a combination of power and a seemingly endless hall mean? I turn my head back towards the end of the room, the needles stabbing deeper the farther I look. There it is again, the night sky, clearer than crystal through the thin film of darkness.

“The Barrier,” I gasp, snapping my head away from the end. “This is the Barrier.”

“Well done, it seems you _are_ perceptive after all this time. If only you’d learn that any efforts you make to run are _meaningless_.”

I press my forehead into the ground, fighting to keep my cries of agony silent.

“I know,” I whisper, accepting the fact that I’m an idiot. Why would I try to run in a place where he could so easily overpower me?

I hear him turn away from me, his footsteps traveling back towards the throne room.

“I’m done with you for the day, you can either lay there and die, for all I care, or you can follow.”

If I wasn’t hurting so bad I’d probably make a comment. Instead I force myself to my feet, not even caring that I have to scream in the process. I just want to get out of here.

Once I’m out of the Barrier room I slam into one of the stone walls, gasping for breath. I hear him stop walking in the other room, a courtesy if he’s ever given one.

I let my body tremble and the tears run down my cheeks, not caring anymore about attempting to appear strong. We both know I have a considerable amount of magic; he just has enough resources to keep the upper hand.

I only give myself a minute to breathe before I push on, afraid that he’ll abandon me. Right now, the safest place is that lab. Who knows what kind of torture mechanisms the king has? The second any monster finds out about my weakness is the moment I will literally be locked up in an eternal hell.

I follow a safe distance behind him, not caring about the grand architecture of the monsters. I lean against the elevator wall once I’m inside, covering my eyes to block out the light that suddenly seems too blinding. I obediently walk all the way back to my cell, not giving him a second glance before climbing back under my blanket.

I can tell he still hasn’t left yet, curious as always. So I finally look up and tell him what I’ve wanted to say for weeks now. He’s hurt me before, but this was far more deliberate, cutting deeper than forcing me to relive a past I already know. This was the first time he’s hurt me with the true intention of causing agony, and I definitely want to repay the favor.

“I hate you,” I say in the strongest voice I can muster.

“I was waiting for you to say that, how interesting that it took you so long.”

If I had any strength, I would run through those green lasers and slice his head right off. Instead, I turn away from him and bury my head in the blanket, forcing tears to stay back as tremors of pain continue to bite my skin.

“Do you know why destroying the Barrier is so important?” he asks after a few moments.

“So you can kill all the humans out of spite?” I snap.

“No, it is because we have been trapped down here for centuries, locked in the darkness.”

“It looked pretty bright to me.”

“That is a false illusion and you know it.”

Hmm, he almost seemed to be a little, _angry_ at me. I lift my head and turn to him. Let’s see if I can keep going. “Why would you care about seeing the Surface? You don’t know what it’s like, and there are humans up there that you would hate much more than me.”

“I know more about the Surface than you would think,” he says, almost defensive. I think I’m getting closer.

“Oh sure, you’ve probably seen tons of pictures and heard lots of stories. I forgot that means you’ve practically lived there your entire life.” I roll my eyes and begin to turn away again.

“You miss the seasons, don’t you?” he asks, throwing me off guard.

I stop and look back at him, “Excuse me?”

“I know it is now springtime, a time when flowers bloom and rain falls. The world wakes up from winter’s slumber, and the people become more cheerful.”

I scoff, that description doesn’t sound like him, “You could have read that anywhere.”

“Did I?” he asks.

It’s an implication, but not a confirmation that he actually _did_ live on the Surface. That would make sense as to why he said he’d seen blood before, all those weeks ago. I didn’t question his comment at the time since his language seemed far more interesting. However, he could’ve also seen blood from whatever experiments he conducted on the kids. I swear I can’t keep track of all the possibilities.

I vaguely remember even further back when Justin said he was the only constant while they were trapped here, another hint that this scientist has been around for a pretty long time. Of course I’m only connecting the dots now; I need to get better at questioning things. Although, I find myself not caring whether he’s been around so freaking long he fought in the wars or not; it doesn’t help me either way.

“So you see... destroying the Barrier has the sole purpose of bringing all monsters the freedom they deserve. It’s a freedom _your kind_ stole,” he emphasizes.

“You’re not going to make me feel guilty after all you’ve done. If you really were around during the wars, then why weren’t you strong enough to stop the humans on your own? Your magic is effective enough to keep a SOUL like mine from leaving, so why weren’t you leveling entire regiments?” He straightens his spine, as if he is above my question. But we both know it means he wasn’t strong enough to stop _my kind_. “Anyway,” I say, glad that I’ve finally gained the upper hand in this verbal battle, “I didn’t see the other six SOULs that were apparently supposed to be at the Barrier.”

“They are locked up, in a location only the king would know.”

“Oh calm down, it’s not like I’m going to steal them,” I roll my eyes. At least I’ve got him on the defensive side now. I’m almost surprised that he doesn’t question how I know there should have been six SOULs at the Barrier, but he’s probably guessing that the SOULs told me. Maybe he assumes as much about me as I do about him.

On the point about the Barrier, I’m guessing that when the kids said they saw the SOULs lined up, the king was probably showing them as a form of intimidation. A way of saying they had no chance of winning when others had fallen before them.

A thought hits me, “Oh yeah, and I don’t really care now since you’re cooperating so nicely, but you’ve asked me several questions within the past day. So that means I get to ask the extremely long list I’ve constructed.”

He sighs, crossing his arms; I’m surprised. He’s actually fine with a Q&A session at however early in the morning it is now? I’m beginning to think he doesn’t have many friends if he’s so willing to talk to me when he clearly doesn’t have to.

“You can ask five for now; I have other matters to deal with,” he says.

That’s fine with me, especially because I’m feeling tired once again. I swear I don’t know if it was the walk or simply pain that drained me.

“Ok, what makes you think that two skeletons and a Perseverant are enough power to equate to a Determination SOUL?”

“It is a mere theory, the only one that I unfortunately have to work with.”

“Okay, but why did you specifically create skeletons yourself? Aren’t there other ones? Aren’t they powerful?”

I bite the inside of my lip when I realize I’ve just wasted two extra questions. Damn, I suck at this game.  

It doesn’t seem to amuse him as he replies, “There are no other skeletons.”

“What?”

“Before my creations, I had been the only skeleton left since the Barrier was created. All of the others were killed in the war.”

“How is it that you were the lucky one?” I ask, practically insulting him. If he was the only one left then that must mean he was a coward. Only cowards survive when all others die. Of course, then I guess that can apply to me seeing as I’m the last one left from my family. Am I actually admitting I share some similarities with him?

“You have already asked your five questions for the night. I gave you your chance.” He turns to leave. “You humans always waste opportunities, such thoughtless beings.”

He walks away and my fingers curl around the blanket into fists, still slightly twitching from the Barrier’s surge of skin-shredding agony. I think I have an idea of how to escape his blue magic, just a calm force of my own to hold it back until I’m strong enough to push it away. It’s worth a try next time he uses blue magic, although I hope the next time isn’t during another trip to the Barrier.

While his moves are very calculated, there’s a sense of _chaos_ to the power he controls. It’s interesting how his grip faltered at the Barrier, as if he didn’t have the same amount of strength as usual. Could he be losing his magic? Or is he getting weaker from some force? Could it be something as simple as stress? Although the idea of him being stressed to the point of exhaustion is a little difficult to imagine.

Except, now that I think about it, he does look more worn than the first time I saw him. There are faint lines in the bone under his eyes that were not there a few weeks ago. I didn’t even think that someone as cold as him could actually _feel_ the daily struggles of pain and fatigue.

I face the wall and bury under my blanket, the shards of pain still stinging in my heart. At least I now know the easiest way to get out of here. If only I had paid more attention during the walks to and from the elevator. I bite the inside of my lip as a punishment, how do I keep losing my opportunities? I guess that makes me a typical human, according to him.

I sigh, it’s okay. As long as I can get past _him_ , I’ll have all the time in the world to find the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A human's reaction to the Barrier can actually change depending on how they view themselves and how they feel about their magic (and of course Krista subconsciously associates her magic with pain, especially after it's been turned against her several times).
> 
> It felt really nice to finally describe new surroundings! (It's probably why this is one of my, if not my most, favorite chapter out of this whole first part to The Perseverant.)  
> (Krista has no idea how much these rooms in particular will mean to her in the future...)


	34. Attempts and Avoidance

He doesn’t appear when I wake up, even though the lights are on. I wait, but the lights turn off until the next day, May first. I flip the calendar, staring at the teal flowers glowing against a blue and purple ground. Waterfall seems like an increasingly good choice, it’s such a contrast in color to New Home that I’m sure it’s fairly far away.

My stomach growls in anger and I lean my head against the wall. Where the hell is he? It’s amazing I haven’t gotten pica yet considering how little I eat; I bet my stomach is now the size of a grape. At least I have water from the sink, but I don’t think the faint chlorine in it is good for me, considering how it makes me even thirstier.

I put an  _ X _ through May first when the lights turn off, sighing in frustration. He was right about one thing, I do miss the seasons. I don’t know why, but winter is actually my favorite. I like a quiet world of serene beauty.

Of course, I don’t mind the other seasons, especially autumn. Spring and summer have their special places in my heart, but I can’t take heat as well as I can the cold.

Heat always seems to exhaust me while cold makes me more alert; it gives me that extra urge to survive. Besides, I’d rather bundle up than wear as little amount of clothing as possible. As someone who has both long hair and hideous scars, I’d prefer the cold every time.

When I wake up the next day, there are two granola bars and a bottle of water on the platform across from me. Hmm, this is the first time he’s ever done that. Even when he didn’t even care to talk to me, he always made an appearance. Did something happen to him? Of course, I’m not concerned about him, but I’m definitely curious.

The pattern continues for a week. I wake up, there’s food and water, and no appearance for the rest of the day. Something’s definitely off. Even when I try to stay awake at different times of the day, he never shows up. 

I attempt to shut down the lasers a few times, but always end up getting shocked pretty badly in the process. I don’t know how to properly form my magic around something within another object, such as the generators inside the wall. He clearly doesn’t believe I’m strong enough to escape since my efforts don’t seem to bother him. 

Other than my failed attempts, it’s just more writing and bad drawings. If there’s one thing my solitude has proven, it’s that I have no talent for either of them. So my writings have transformed more into journal entries: my thoughts, my fears, my speculations, my imagination, all written in his language. I make sure to hide what I write, but I wouldn’t care if he read them. I’m pretty proud of the insults I can come up with.

On the eighth of May, I finally hear footsteps in the silent hallway. Only, these steps are different, almost like… he’s  _ limping _ . I jump up, waiting a safe distance away from the lasers. When he appears, my eyebrows shoot up in surprise. 

For starters, I was definitely right that he was limping, even though I can tell he’s trying to hide it as much as possible. His right eye is completely shut, with a crack running up from the inside of it to the top of his skull. While his left eye is open, there is a crack running from the inside and down to the corner of his mouth. His lab coat is patched in different places, the largest one being on his right sleeve. While everything is the same white shade, the seams are clearly noticeable.

I’m so stunned by his appearance that I don’t even notice the bowl he holds out to me until he clears his throat. I grab the bowl without looking at its contents and raise an eyebrow.

“So… is this why you’ve been avoiding me all week?” I ask.

“I have had more important matters to deal with,” he says in an extremely professional tone.

“I see. So which subject did it? One or Two?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he snaps.

“I’m guessing One considering how much he seems to hate you. Although, I have no way of telling what Two is like so maybe it was him. Or maybe it was both of them, I could see that. If you don’t want people to hurt you, you might want to start being a little nicer.”

He rolls his eye and begins to walk away, but of course not without the last word. “And you wonder why I don’t speak with you every day.”

I smirk, glad I was able to irritate him for once, yet it doesn’t seem as fun since he’s injured. I just really want to know how it happened.  _ Did _ the boys attack him? Or was it from something completely different?

Either way I’m glad it did happen, he had it coming. I almost feel better about what happened at the Barrier...  _ almost _ .

I finally look down at the bowl, realizing that it has some warmth to it. I almost gasp when I see spaghetti noodles swimming in a glistening clear sauce. Is he serious? I’m finally getting an actual  _ meal _ ? I notice he also gave me a utensil, put when I pull it out from underneath the noodles, I see it’s a spoon. I don’t know why, but I can’t help but smirk at it. That’s a lame joke, even coming from someone as humorless as him.

I sit underneath my bed so he can’t completely watch me struggle to twirl the noodles around the spoon. Other than the annoyance of trying to gather the spaghetti, it’s the best meal I’ve had in months. The noodles are perfectly cooked, and the sauce tastes like a mixture of butter and oregano. I’ve long since stopped caring about what’s good for me and am just glad to  _ eat _ something. It doesn’t matter that it’s not the traditional red sauce; I’d eat the noodles even if they were plain.

Unfortunately, I’m only halfway through the bowl before I’m stuffed, and it’s not even that big of a portion! I sigh and place it on top of my calendar, hoping he won’t take it away.

The next day, the spaghetti is still there and I happily finish it off. I guess it was also a way for him to avoid me today, since I’ve now eaten what would practically equate to two granola bars.

I try my hand at the lasers again, feeling more energized than usual. At first nothing happens, but after minutes of feeling my magic through the wall, I finally hit the generators. I gasp when it feels as if I’m touching them with my bare hands.

I realize that they’re magic-based with a tiny current of electricity alternating between the actual lasers. Now I just have to warp them to my own desires.

I try to smother the current with my magic, as if I can suffocate electricity. The generators’ magic pushes back, but I push with more force. It takes an intense amount of focus, so much that my throat closes from the effort.  _ Just a little more _ .

The top laser flickers a bit, its light beginning to fade into a thin line.  _ Come on, you can do it. _

I hear a loud crash down the hallway and I jump, the laser zapping me in the SOUL. I back away, rubbing just above my heart. Damn, I was so close! What was that noise?

I try to reach out my magic’s aura, attempting to extend its senses. But I find nothing as far as three doors down. It’s not impressive by any means, but just like with creating shields, I’m working on it. If I’m getting better at sensing SOULs, then I should be able to send my magical senses out more.

I sigh and decide it’s not worth trying again for the day; I can only take so much electricity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last "short" chapter for Part 1! (Meaning the last few will all be about double the length of this one.)
> 
> I guess I should've said this earlier, but I'll say it now since the next few chapters might be a little confusing: if I don't explain some points of the plot in my end notes, then they will be explained in the story later. I know this is definitely the pain of the fact that this story is both lengthy and you as readers already know several factors that seem to be contradicted, but I will address them! That's why I added the tag that says this is inspired by the game and the comic, because I've changed many things that work in this story, but not in the other two.


	35. There's Always Someone Stronger

Three days later, I decide it’s worth trying the generators again, especially since he never made a comment when tossing a granola bar at me after my attempt. But when he arrives on the day I make my decision, he doesn’t bring any food.

“How many times do I have to remind you that eating is a necessity for my survival?” I ask.

“Your magic is needed for today’s experiment, then you can eat,” he snaps.

I roll my eyes, “Fine.”

As we walk down the hallways, I notice he’s not limping anymore. Good for him, otherwise I would’ve taken advantage of the opportunity. I can’t tell if I should risk it today, considering it’s impossible to tell how strong he is. His magical aura seems to be the same, or has it changed and I haven’t noticed? Is it less intense than it used to be?

He takes me to a room different from any I’ve been in before. It’s fairly small, with nothing but a long control panel to the right, and a raised platform to the left of it, taking up a decent amount of space. The dais is not very high, only about six inches, but it’s noticeable enough to have some significance. There’s also a small circle of the floor that is lower than the rest in the center of the room, with a deep groove connecting it to the platform.

“Stand on the platform and wait. If you try anything, I will know,” he snaps, anger biting in his voice.

“Alright, jeez,” I sigh, doing as he says.

He leaves the room and I wait, scanning my surroundings. The walls are the same green as everywhere else. I guess that’s a good sign? It’s better than the black of the memory test room.

My head perks up when I sense two new magical auras. Well, one is slightly familiar, while the other is completely brand new. He opens the door and Subject One, and I’m assuming Subject Two, follow.

Subject Two looks completely different from his brother, but guess who he does look like? Side by side, I would think he and the scientist are father and son. I guess they technically are, but I’m sure neither of them would like those labels of relation.  

Two’s head is more vertical while his brother’s is more rounded. He’s about a head taller than One, practically my height I’m sure, if we stood back to back. His hospital gown doesn’t puff out from his body the way One’s does. Instead, it hangs limply, making him seem much smaller than he actually is. His eye sockets are like the scientist’s, dark pits that somehow hold the faintest lights of life within them. The difference that makes Two unique is that his eyes seem to be searching with wonder, not accusation.

When Two lays eyes on me, he looks confused, and his brother whispers something to him. Two nods and the scientist directs them to stand on the platform next to me. They approach me with caution while the scientist walks behind the control panel to the far left.

When the boys step onto the platform, they peer at me curiously, especially Two. I give them a small smile and wave a little, hoping they can tell that I mean to be friendly. Two raises an eye socket, but waves back, his teeth lifting in a brief smile.

I feel a small burst of joy, hopeful that they understand me. One seems more interested in what the scientist is doing, his eyes narrowing in his direction.

“What are you doing?” he asks in the same soft voice as when I’d spoken to him before.

“I’m calibrating the frequency necessary for this test,” he snaps, furiously typing on whatever keyboard is over there.

“What frequency?” Two asks in a voice slightly higher than One’s. My throat tightens at the innocence in his voice, so similar to Mable’s.

“Be quiet,” the scientist snaps, “just focus on the center of the room.”

A thin green line of light appears above the circle, widening as black tendrils begin to seep from it. I squint at the tendrils, fear creeping up my spine. I don’t think they’re supposed to be here. They have a magical capacity, but it feels very, very _wrong_. Almost as if they have too much power, too much control over time and space itself.

I hear the scientist scoff before saying, “Human! Contain the creature!”

My eyes snap to him and then back to the growing tendrils. I, for sure, don’t want to find out what they are, but am I strong enough to stop them?

I form a purple bubble around the source, strengthening the shield as the coils grow. They twist and slither around my magic, testing my capabilities almost mockingly. I wince when one taps my shield, the sensation as if it’s directly touching my SOUL.

The tendrils continue to grow, forcing me to widen my defenses as more and more press against my weakening magic. Damn this thing is strong, and I doubt this is even a speck of its power.

 **“Hmm,”** I hear from within the tendrils, **“you must think you’re so strong to hold** **_me_ ** **back.”**

The voice is bone chilling, filled with anger, hatred, confidence, and power. I bite my lip as it begins to press more forcefully.

**“The more you fight, little human, the more you will hurt yourself.”**

The shadows fill my entire shield, now slamming against my magic, my very SOUL. I feel my defenses crack and all of the darkness rushes towards the single weakness, biting at it like a fresh meal.

I scream and my shield breaks, the tendrils rushing out to form a towering figure of darkness. I crouch down from the piercing pain in my head as the creature laughs at me.

I feel a bony hand on my shoulder and look up to see Subject Two, his face contorted in concern.

“Are you alright?” he asks.

How could he be concerned for a _stranger_ when there’s danger right in front of us?

I simply nod and look up at the creature, its massive form filling up most of the room. My eyes widen at the sight of it, a conglomeration of shadows and bones. Its darkness shifts as a variety of bones move in and out of its form, the only consistency being the gigantic skull at the very top. Horns similar to a ram’s curve behind the skull as the tendrils pour from its eyes and mouth. Razor sharp teeth peek out from the inside of its jaw, the wisps of darkness oozing between them like blood.

 **“Hmm… two morsels and… a Perseverant,”** it hums deep within its form.

Without a second’s hesitation the creature opens its mouth, a ball of white light forming inside. A noise resounds within its throat, almost as if it’s charging up power. My heartbeat speeds up, something like that can’t be good. But what exactly is it doing?

“Look out!” Two yells next to me, pushing my shoulder down before holding his brother close, his body shielding One from whatever blow will come.

My eyes snap shut in anticipation, and I attempt to form a small shield around us, failing miserably.

I hear a loud blast burst from the creature, but its power never reaches me. After a pause to make sure the blast isn’t delayed, I look up to see the scientist standing in front of the boys and me, his arms out in a protective stance. A line of thick bones form a small cage around us, causing the creature to lean back a bit.

I glance at the boys, their faces conveying the same amount of shock and confusion as I feel. He’s actually _defending_ us? I guess it makes sense for the boys, he must feel _something_ for them, even if it’s just annoyance. But _me_?

 **“Well, well, if it isn’t Doctor Wingdings Gaster. You look so young! Those two must be your children,”** the creature observes, its head facing the boys.

My eyebrows shoot up, _that’s_ his name? I didn’t realize how badly I wanted to know until I heard it.

“I have no children,” the scientist- Gaster says.

**“You’re very protective of strangers then; I didn’t know you were so compassionate.”**

“One, go to the terminal and shut down the program,” Gaster mutters to the smaller skeleton, but keeps his eyes on the creature.

“But-” One protests before a line of bones appear, creating a protective path for him to reach the control panel. “Okay,” he agrees, “okay.”

He runs to the terminal while the creature seems to be preoccupied with a train of thought. **“Hmm, you must still be linear at this point, how interesting. Did you intend to bring me to this specific point in time? How unfortunate that we never discussed it before.”**

The shadows begin to move faster, as if the creature’s excited. Smaller skulls bob in and out of the darkness, their faces taunting. **“Mmm, this plane is gorgeously physical... and mortal. It makes me want to stretch a bit.”**

The main skull finally looks back at Gaster. **“Fate has its influence on you, but I wonder… does it offer your son the same protection?”**

“He’s not my son,” Gaster snaps, his voice wavering the slightest bit.

**“He has a piece of your SOUL, as does the other. Isn’t it just semantics now?”**

“What do you want? Why did you attack us?” Two squeaks, his voice only partially fearful.

 **“I’m curious is all, just how easy it would be to kill you,”** the creature practically laughs.

“Why? We didn’t do anything!” Two protests.

**“You’d be surprised how often that never matters.”**

“That’s not fair!”

**“Few circumstances are.”**

Gaster lifts his elbow to block Two more as the creature leans closer to them, its tendrils dripping to the ground only to be reabsorbed.

I notice Gaster’s shaking, his stance as defensive as possible. I wonder if it’s from fear, or could it just be anger that things are not going as he planned?

Two looks at Gaster with wonder, as if he believes they are now working together to stop this creature. I guess they are, but I don’t know how any of us could overpower it.

“You leave us alone! We’re not scared of you!” Two says.

**“Really? What a little hero you have Gaster; he looks like you, you know.”**

One of the smaller skulls lean close to Gaster’s face, but its eyes are directed at Two.

**“You are very brave little one, but also very foolish.”**

A blast of white light slams into the creature, forcing it far across the room. A giant, dragon-shaped skull floats to the left of Gaster’s head, it’s features cracked and its eye closed just like his. I’m guessing that’s another form of his power, creating creatures that can attack like blasters? Only, the one trying to hurt us is far more terrifying.

 **“Hmm, you hit hard, even this far back,”** the creature chuckles. **“But not hard enough.”**

It charges another ball of white light and Gaster dodges it at just the right time, dragging Two to the side.

“Are you going to do anything useful, human?” he snaps at me.

I look up at the creature and it turns its head at me, as if it has finally noticed I exist.

 **“Oh don’t worry, I haven’t forgotten about you, little Perseverant.”** Its smaller skulls become more numerous, snapping at me with razor teeth.

I form a shield and a sword, attempting to swallow my doubts that whatever I try won’t work. I slice at the skulls as they near, slashing through them with ease. However, my efforts don’t seem to matter as they reappear within seconds.

 **“You have power, but it is useless against me,”** the creature chuckles.

I bite my lip and form all my strength into a wall of purple, forcing it against the creature’s shadows. It actually seems surprised as I force my opponent back a considerable amount, so much so that I hear a small gasp from it.

The creature snaps its jaws at my defenses, searching for a weakness. I focus all my power on just holding the shield, not thinking about anything else. The creature seems to notice and it stops fighting, resorting to words instead.

 **“I know more about you than you would expect,”** it says, only pressing against my shield so I can’t push it any farther back.

“I don’t care,” I say, fighting to stick by my words.

 **“Oh, I think you do. I can see it in your eyes; I can feel it in your SOUL. You are** **_very_ ** **afraid of your past, of the terrors it holds. You don’t realize it yet, but you should also be** **_very_ ** **afraid of the future. That is, if you even live to see it.”**

The creature charges a ball of light, and I tighten my shield, begging for it to hold. Unfortunately, its power is too strong as I’m thrown into the far wall across from the platform. All of my breath is knocked out of me as my body drops to the ground. I look up and the creature is towering over me in seconds.

**“I have wanted to speak with you for quite some time, how fortunate that Gaster didn’t realize it’s dangerous to attempt poking into other dimensions. Otherwise, who knows when I’d get the chance?”**

I raise an eyebrow at it, my entire body shaking in fear and pain. Why would it want to talk to _me_? How would it even know me?

I hear a blast and the creature sighs, turning to face Gaster. **“You are all making this quite interesting,”** it says before lunging at Two. Gaster shoves him to the side, getting caught by the creature in the process. **“You’re doing quite well, considering your limitations.”** The creature wraps a tendril around his left arm before bending it back. A loud _snap_ cracks throughout the room and I wince; it just broke his arm.

**“Whoops, I forgot how fragile you are like this. Physical bodies can be such an inconvenience.”**

Two hits the tendrils with one of his own blaster skulls, running to help Gaster.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Gaster looks up at him and then shoves his head down right as the creature attacks. It throws him into the wall, a crack just as loud as his broken arm resonating throughout the room. He collapses and the creature faces Two, forcing him to back up. I try to get to my feet, but my body feels like it’s being crushed into the ground. All I can do is watch as Two creates his blaster, pleading with the creature. “I don’t want to hurt you, leave us alone!”

 **“Child, I am deathless. You could not kill me even if you wanted to. However…** **_you_ ** **on the other hand.”**

Somehow, Gaster gets to his feet and stands in front of Two, his entire body shaking and his left arm limp. “Not again,” he snaps.

**“Still up? How clever, to use fate as a shield. Unless… you don’t know. Which would mean... it’s a sincere gesture? How adorable, you have a lot of love for ‘strangers,’ Gaster.”**

The creature’s head snaps up to look at One. **“Hmm, the rift is closing; the little one has almost figured it out. I guess now is my chance to offer a cryptic warning; I’ve always wanted to.”** It turns to Gaster, a laugh hidden under its voice. **“Dr. Gaster, you have such a great interest in the future, but it has very little interest in you. Everything you’ve ever worked on or created… none of it needs you. None of it will remember you when you’re gone. So ask yourself, was it worth it?”**

The green line of light appears and the creature backs into it. **“Be seeing you, very soon.”**

In the silence that follows, the brothers reunite, clinging to each other in relief, but Two seems more concerned about Gaster. “Are you okay?” he asks while at the same time One asks who the creature was.

“I have no idea,” Gaster admits, staring at the spot where the creature disappeared. “I only thought there would be enough energy to see a different dimension, or to speak with an informant from another frequency.”

“You saved us,” Two says.

“Both of us,” One adds, seeming to forget me.

“I- I’ve put too much into this project to lose the two of you now,” Gaster stumbles. I think this is the first time I’ve actually seen real emotion from him.

Two seems convinced while One makes a face in disbelief.

“What do you think it meant? About you being gone?” One asks.

“That’s enough for today, the two of you are going back to your cell,” Gaster sighs.

I push myself up to my feet, despite the protesting aches in my back and shoulders that probably mean I’m internally bleeding.

Gaster glances at me, not even trying to hide the fact that he’s in pain.

“You’re staying here for now, until I fix a few things,” he says, his voice partially trembling.

“Okay,” is all I say, somehow not bothered by the order. I think we’re all so shaken that arguing seems like a pointless, exhausting task. Or at least, it seems that way to me.

The boys give me one last glance before leaving the room. One just gives me another confused look, as if he’s trying to figure me out. While Two gives me an encouraging smile. I smile back, before he leaves and I hear the door lock, glad that we have some form of communicating.

I realize that everything they said today was in Gaster’s language, even the creature’s words. I feel a small sense of pride that I can understand them so well I don’t even notice they’re speaking in a language that was once completely unknown to me.

I sit down and lean my head against the wall, trying to process all that happened in such a short amount of time. The obvious factor is that I have his name now. It’s weird how easily I’ve already begun to refer to him as Gaster, I guess names are more important to me than I thought. Even if the name is of someone I openly admitted to hating.

I guess that’s why I hate referring to the boys as “One” and “Two,” but what else am I supposed to say? I’d rather not call them by their appearances; I just want to know their fonts.  

I begin to think of all the questions I have about the creature, almost certain that Gaster will honestly not be able to answer them. I smirk, “ _He’ll_ actually be the clueless one for once,” I mutter.

**“Yes, how rewarding is that thought?”**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there are three things I want to address about this one:  
> \- While the events that occur in this chapter are very similar, the creature has an entirely different meaning in this story than in the comic.  
> \- I tried to switch up the dialogue a bit, but much of what the creature says holds true in this story with slightly different meaning.  
> \- Gaster's motives/intentions that lead to the appearance of the creature is different from his reasoning in the comic.
> 
> This is kind of a two-parter in the sense that next chapter will explain more about my intentions with the creature in this story.  
> (There is a heck of a lot of foreshadowing in this one.)


	36. More Than Bruises

My heart nearly stops and I look up in time to see the creature emerging from the same location it disappeared. It slinks on the ground towards me and I jump to my feet, running to the control panel.

**“Oh please, as if you would be able to figure that out?”**

“I can sure as hell try,” I snap, looking down at the keyboard. It’s written in his language, but I see it as any normal alphabet.

**“You’ve barely touched a computer in your life, and now you think you can seal an entire dimension?”**

I squint at the creature, “What makes you think I don’t know anything about computers?”

**“I told you, I know a lot of things about you, Krista.”**

My throat tightens, “How do you know my name?”

The creature chuckles and transforms into the child from my first session, the supposedly dead Determined one.

“ _ You _ ?” I ask, completely stunned.

“Correct!” she says in a cheerful voice. “I can take many forms; I just thought that creature was one the boys would understand best. It’s also  _ very _ intimidating, like did you see Gaster’s face? He was terrified!”

I look back down at the computer screen as random lines of code scroll by almost faster than I can read them.

“Come on Krista, you can’t decipher that. I give you props for learning his language so well, but code is quite different.”

She flicks a hand and I’m thrown to my left, slamming into the wall. I hit the ground, fighting back the urge to scream from the spots that will certainly become dark bruises.

“Yeah, there is definitely a lot of magical energy in this room. It’s quite impressive that he was able to rip through the very fabric of space and time itself. You’d be surprised by how little energy is required.”

“I thought you said the rift was closing,” I hiss.

“That is true; One did a phenomenal job for being so uneducated of technical programs. However, I’ve still got a few minutes, and I wanted them to leave so we could have some one on one time.”

“How flattering,” I practically snarl, pushing myself up to my knees. “So what do you want?”

“I just want to give some friendly advice, from one broken human to another.”

“What then?”

“Well, for one I’ll let you know that Gaster is the Royal Scientist, the most esteemed monster in the Underground.”

“More than the king?”

“The king is the most beloved monster, everyone loves that guy,” she says casually.

I doubt that. “That wasn’t advice,” I snap.

“Hush, hush, let me speak.”

My face twists in disgust, but I let her continue.

“You should know that Gaster created the Core, the source of power for all the Underground. Without him, this place would be an even darker prison than it already is. The poor guy doesn’t have many friends, just Alphys and the king himself. Other than those two, he’s only got his work to entertain him. Isn’t that sad?”

“You compliment and pity him yet you tried to kill him,” I say matter-of-factly. 

“I couldn’t have killed him even if I wanted to, fate has a strange way of overpowering even the best of us,” she sighs.

“What does fate have to do with anything?”

“ _ Everything _ ,” she whispers, her eyes turning a darker shade of red.

I suddenly don’t want to aggravate her, yet I can’t help but feel annoyance at her cryptic messages. “So how is any of this advice?”

“That information will be crucial in the near future… if you make it,” she smirks. Her eyes glitter with a dark malice, as if she knows secrets that would destroy the worst people imaginable. “I have a decent amount of confidence in your survival, but I’d still like to test my curiosity on  _ someone _ . Trust me, I would have preferred killing One or Two, those boys don’t matter to any future. All they’ll do is get in the way. Of course, I’ve noticed that as your power has grown, you’re becoming even more of a nuisance in the future too.”

The girl smiles, eyeing me like a kicked dog. “It’s nothing personal, I’ve quite admired how much stronger you’ve gotten within the past few months. You won’t believe how many worthless humans were so easily crushed by the power of the sessions. If the circumstances were different, I would gladly let you live to see the Surface one last time. However, I believe it would be best to just erase you completely. I mean, I’m sure you’ve thought this yourself at some point, that the world doesn’t need you. And with the kind of power you have,  _ I _ most certainly don’t need you getting in the way of my Determination, little Perseverant.”

She transforms back into the creature, its mouth open to charge a blast of light. I jump to my feet and dodge it just in time, the charge much shorter than previous ones.

**“You can’t run, Krista. There is nowhere to run.”**

Her voice is back to the echoing of hatred and agony, far more terrifying than her childish mockery.

I dodge the tendrils as they snap in my direction, like the whip that slashed my back only four years ago. I form small shields to hold her back, but I can’t focus enough to make them strong. She switches tactics and fires blasts from even the little skulls, causing me to panic.

I keep dodging until I realize she’s cornered me, her dark figure of bones towering a few feet away. I suddenly feel pressure in my head so intense I have to crouch, my breaths gasping as I try to figure out what to do.

**“Would you like any last words?”** she asks mockingly. The giant skull forms a ball of white and I move as fast as I can to my left, running to the other side of the room. I hear the blast go off the second I move, but I keep running, slamming into the wall as a searing pain burns my right arm. I refuse to look at it as I face her again, the figure slithering across the room. But when she reaches the center, she gasps, as if she’s been zapped by electricity. The figure begins to melt into the floor, a shine of green light forming underneath it.

I see the door open in the corner of my eye, but I continue to stare at the melting form.

**“You may have survived this time Krista, but believe me when I say you are only living to face pain much worse.”**

The figure completely disappears, but I can only stare, her words echoing in my brain. I slowly come back to myself as I realize I’m shaking, and the burning in my arm becomes too noticeable to ignore.

I look down at my right arm and almost faint from the sight. The flesh is completely burned away from the entire top of my arm, extending from the wrist to just under the elbow. I can see both of the bones within my arm; their white color is tinted a faint yellow-red. I can’t feel anything inside my arm, only the burning sensation on my skin surrounding the wound.

I think I hear Gaster’s voice, but the blood pounding in my head drowns him out. I think I’m hyperventilating as I drop to the floor, almost wanting to throw up from knowing nearly all my flesh is gone.

Those are my  _ bones _ . I can’t stop shaking. My hand is numb. I can’t move it. Heat burns my face. I can’t find air. My throat completely closes. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. I can’t breathe!

I jump when I feel his hand grip my shoulder, forcing me to look at him.

“Krista!” he snaps. “Just take a deep breath.”

I’m so shocked that I do as he says, my eyes locked onto his like a lifeline.

“Do it again,” he says, frustration biting in his voice.

I follow his orders, finally looking away and he backs up. 

“Now, stand up,” he says.

I slowly push myself up with my good arm, slightly dizzy despite taking my time. He nods, turning for me to follow. I obediently walk, but am almost immediately light headed by the time I step out into the hallway.

I press my left hand into my forehead, as if it will reduce the pressure, but all it does is make my blood pound even worse. I tell myself that’s good, it will keep me from passing out.

I have to stop several times to catch my breath, my heart pounding much faster than it should be. I’m almost afraid I’ll have a heart attack.

Gaster waits patiently, actually giving me time to recover, but he never helps.

When we reach my cell, I walk inside and crawl onto my bed, wrapping my blanket over trembling shoulders. He turns on the lasers and walks away without a word, leaving me to my agony. I faintly realize that he seemed completely fine, his arm wasn’t broken anymore and his steps were as purposeful as always.

Tears mist my eyes and I dig my teeth into my lips, as if the mild pain will erase the mixture of burning and freezing on my arm. How is he healed all of a sudden? If he can self-heal, then why didn’t he fix the cracks in his skull? I bet he fixed just enough as a way of bragging that he can easily heal anything, but I’m not worth the trouble.

I stare at the bones in my arm, helpless to do anything. I don’t dare to touch them, afraid of what it would feel like, if I could even feel them. The original numbness inside my arm is faintly beginning to wear off, the cold air biting my burned flesh.

I let my tears fall, furious that there’s nothing I can do. How could I even fix it? Will I have to lose my entire forearm?

I hear the lasers turn off, and I look up through my haze of tears. Gaster and Two stand at the door. Two walks in and Gaster turns the lasers back on before walking away.

I wipe my tears away and give Two a pained smile, wondering why he’s here. Two cautiously approaches me and sits down to my right, his eye sockets peering at my arm. While he’s not as fazed at the sight of my bones as I am, it’s clear he recognizes that mine aren’t meant to be seen.

Two holds out his left hand to me. “I can heal it,” he whispers. 

I weakly raise an eyebrow, immediately wondering if it hurts him. For all I know, Gaster could’ve engineered Two that way; I wouldn’t put it past him. What a cruel punishment that would be, that in order to heal others you must suffer yourself. 

Two notices my hesitation and he says, “Don’t worry, nothing bad will happen. I won’t make it worse, I promise.”

I give him a small smile before gently wrapping the fingers of my right hand around the slender bones of his left. He somehow closes his eye sockets and his hand begins to glow green. I watch his face, searching for any pain in his expression, but there’s nothing but calm concentration. Maybe it doesn’t hurt him after all.

After about a minute, a warm, soothing sensation begins to travel up my hand, erasing any pain in the way. When it reaches my injury, there’s a short pause before his magic begins to heal my arm. I watch in awe as he repairs the flesh, and I feel nothing but a slight tickling feeling. It takes him a while to repair everything, so much so that he places his right hand on my tiny bicep, the sensation traveling down to meet the other one. My eyes widen when I see the top of his right hand, wanting to smack myself for not noticing it before. 

There’s a square metal plate that has been screwed into the tendons of his pinky and index fingers. The plate is big enough to cover the entire top of his hand, stopping right above where his fingers can bend. The plate reads  _ WDG-2 _ with a  _ P _ written directly below the  _ D _ and  _ G _ .

I glance back at his face but he keeps his eyes closed in concentration. I look away and stare at the floor, not wanting to be rude. 

I get what the  _ WDG-2 _ means, but what does the  _ P _ stand for? Could it be… the first letter of his font? Does One have a similar plate? What has Gaster been doing to them all this time? I’m not sure.

Before I know it, my arm is completely healed and he removes his right hand, but he keeps using the magic with his left. It travels up to my shoulders and across my back, healing not only the internal bleeding but also knots of pain I didn’t even realize I had. His face twists in confusion when I feel his magic touch my scars, and I feel him trying to heal them. I place my left hand on top of his while letting go with my right. He opens his eyes and raises an eye socket, probably wondering why I wanted him to stop.

I quickly grab my notebook from underneath the bed and write to him, talking at the same time.

“Those have been there for a while, it’s okay, they don’t need healing.”

“But… you’re still hurt,” he quietly protests.

“Sometimes it’s best to let the scars remain, as reminders of where you once were in life.”

He looks confused as he rubs the back of his neck. I guess he’s wondering what it’s like to have scars. I don’t see how skeletons can have them unless they’re actual cracks in the bone.

“Anyway, thank you, for healing me. I hope it wasn’t too much trouble.”

His face lights up and he shakes his head. “Oh no it wasn’t any trouble. You’re very welcome.”

He pauses, seeming nervous when he says, “Can I ask how it happened?”

“The creature, it came back,” I say and write, hoping he can’t detect my rising anxiety at the thought of it. Well, more precisely,  _ her _ .

“What? How? I thought my brother got rid of it.”

I’m about to respond when I hear distant footsteps in the hallway. I stand up and Two does the same, his eyes filled with concern.

“Sorry,” I whisper. “Thank you again.”

Two smiles a bit and opens his arms, as if asking for a hug. I can’t help but smile as I wrap my arms around his ribcage, realizing that he’s a few inches taller than me.

“I hope to see you again,” he whispers before letting go.

“Me too,” I say before nodding, hoping he gets the message.

Gaster appears, turning off the lasers and Two walks out of my cell. The lasers are back on almost immediately, and Gaster begins to walk without looking at me. Two gives me one last glance, waving the tiniest bit before following the scientist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I 100% do not believe the creature is Chara in the comic, but it is in this story. And I know everyone says, "Chara is not the villain," and this is a statement I agree with. However, that's in reference to actual human child who lived with the Dremurr family. The Chara presented here is not that child, and she has her reasons for her actions. (Just wanted to clarify all that since Chara won't reappear/ be explained until sometime in Part 2.) Also, Chara spoke slightly differently when she was the creature (in comparison to how she speaks normally) as a way of toying with all of them.
> 
> Gaster knew there was no way to get Krista to calm down unless something took her attention away from her arm. So he actually says her name (finally)! 
> 
> I'd like to think that their healing powers are all centered around replication. When their magic first connects with an injured being, they analyze what is damaged and review the unharmed areas around it to formulate the matter that should be there. Of course, this is just my take on the idea of how they do it. (Papyrus seems even cooler now.)


	37. The Other Scientist

_ A creature narrows its eyes at me, its massive form slithering like a graceful snake. It whispers about my past failures, about my future failures, about all the people who will die because of me. I try to run, to scream, to call for help, but nobody will come. It cackles as razor teeth bite down on my arm, tearing away the flesh to reveal my bones. _

**_“Just give up, you have nothing left,”_ ** _ it hisses at me. _

_ I reluctantly agree, ignoring the few reasons I have left. It’s better this way, better to not get in the way of everyone else. Its black tendrils pull me into the darkness, and swallow me whole. _

I bolt up from my bed, gasping for air. My left hand grips my forearm, frantically searching for the bones that should be visible, but there’s nothing. I allow my breaths to slow, reminding myself that I’m fine, I’m safe. Well, as safe as I can get.

I usually don’t have dreams, and if I do, they’re not very intense. I’m surprised at how freaky that one was, but then again similar events just happened yesterday. I keep rubbing my forearm, as if it’s not possible that it’s healed. Two did a remarkable job, it looks brand new. So brand new that the few little scars and tiny birthmarks I had are completely erased. There’s nothing but smooth, pale skin. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad one.

I get a drink of water and mark yesterday off the calendar, glad it’s over with. Of course now I have too many questions that need answers, questions that I’m sure Gaster won’t be able to answer, even if I give him the details. I decide it’s best not to tell him about the girl, he probably wouldn’t believe me anyway, considering that she turned back into the creature by the time he arrived.

It’s obvious that he had Two heal him while my life was threatened once again, although I will admit I’m grateful that he also didn’t leave me to suffer. His justification would probably be that I need both arms to efficiently use magic, how thoughtful.

I’m amazed that he actually said my name, granted it was probably just to get me to stop freaking out. But could it have also been… concern? Probably not. At best, there’s only been a fragile understanding between us, nothing more.

He shows up after about two hours, bringing two apples and water. Well at least he remembered I didn’t eat yesterday. 

“So, I guess we’re just not going to discuss what happened yesterday?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

“What is there to discuss?” he asks, sounding tired.

“I don’t know, maybe just what exactly were you expecting to find from another dimension? And why did you even bring me if you didn’t expect that creature to show up?”

“I didn’t think that creature would emerge, but I did bring you as a precaution in case anything with a small degree of power did.”

“So, what was the point of it all?”

“My goal was to access another dimension in order to find a way to destroy the Barrier. I thought I could find one where it was already destroyed and use its accomplishment to suit my purposes.”

He seriously thought he could somehow sync two dimensions together so the Barrier would break in ours? Or was he hoping he could grab a Determined human to bring here? I still don’t get how he expected to do it, but I guess the fact that it failed means his expectations don’t matter.

“Do you know what that creature meant? About anything it talked about?”

His face scrunches in concentration, as if he’s trying to think of a single word he understood.

After a pause, he says, “I think it enjoyed speaking in riddles, simply toying with beings who didn’t understand its power. That is all.”

He turns and walks away, seeming almost nervous about explaining any further. I think he really does understand what was said, perhaps he’s even afraid, she did essentially talk about him being erased from existence anyway. I wonder what makes her think that. Maybe everything really is just part of a game to her, and her power gives her the ability to make what she says seem true.

For the next week, we fall back into the pattern of him showing up once a day before quickly leaving. I don’t mind, I don’t even try to start a conversation, there’s nothing to do but wait for the next experiment.

I try to deactivate the lasers a few times, but I have a hard time focusing as so many questions repeat themselves in my head. I almost want to stick around just to see if she’ll show up again in a session. Although I’d rather not nearly lose my arm again.

On the nineteenth, hours after he’s shown up for the day, I hear footsteps in the hallway. My head perks up from my notebook as I listen, noticing how different they are from his. Instead of shoes, it sounds like steps bare feet would make, slightly sticky and far quieter. The steps are hesitant and slow, as if it’s the person’s first time here. When they’re close enough, I’m able to sense their SOUL, noticing that their magic is much weaker than Gaster’s.

Who could this be? Not one of the boys certainly but, could it actually be another human? Or a monster?

I crawl out from underneath my bed and stand a safe distance from the lasers, waiting for the mysterious being. A few seconds later, I jump when my eyes are hit with the intensity of yellow and white, accompanied by a loud gasp.

“Oh!” the monster exclaims, the voice high pitched and squeaky with a feminine quality.

I stare at the being before me, automatically thinking that this must be what a lizard would look like if it could walk on two feet. Only, she’s not exactly a lizard aside from her short tail and bright color.

The monster has five rounded spikes curving back from the sides of her head, as if they were meant for style rather than defense. She only has eight fingers and toes rather than ten like a human, each accompanied with stubby claws. A white lab coat is wrapped tightly around her body, covering most of her yellow skin. Her two beady eyes peer at me from behind circular glasses delicately balanced on the bridge of her nose.

What surprises me the most about her appearance is her two buck teeth over biting her lower lip, making her look more comical rather than as a figure to be taken seriously. I also notice how her shoulders hunch forward, as if she wants to scurry away and hide in a dark corner.

Just  _ who _ exactly is this?

“Uh, hi?” I say, not sure how to break the ice.

“You’re a- a human,” she says, her face still conveying shock.

“Yeah, and you’re a monster,” I say, hoping that establishing the basics will help her gain some composure. I have a lot of questions to ask.

“H- how long have you been here?” she asks.

“A few months, since the end of January to be specific.”

Her thin eyebrows furrow as if she’s trying to remember something. “So he lied to me,” she whispers, looking at the ground.

“What?” I ask, hoping for details.

She looks back up at me, “W- when I noticed my camera outside of the Ruins was black during the day, I- I told him about it since he always said it was better for him to check in case there was a human. S- so he checked, and when he came back he said there was just some flowers covering it, nothing more. Every other time there was a human he told me about it. The two of us, along with a f- few others would just do simple tests to find some power in them that would help destroy the Barrier.”

Clearly that power was the Determination that every human has. Those tests must have been when they extracted it. I’m guessing much worse tests were done to those humans, but she didn’t know about them. I hope I’m right in assuming her ignorance, I could probably use that.

“S- so, why would he not tell me about you?” she peers at me with a bewildered expression, as if my appearance has all the answers.

“Uh, maybe because my purpose is connected to the boys?” I ask like she would know the answer, although I’m sure she doesn’t. If she’s hurt by not knowing about me, then it will be even worse when she sees them.

“W- what boys?” 

“Oh you know, the two skeletons he created that he’s been torturing for the past few months because he believes it’s the right thing to do.”

The shock on her face is a sure sign that she had no idea. I figured. If Gaster had told anyone else about this place, I would have seen them by now. I’m hoping my bluntness will make her feel betrayed enough to consider letting the boys go. 

“Are you new here or something? I thought it was common knowledge that he was a sadist.”

She backs away a step, her eyes widening in horror.

“N- no, h- he would  _ never _ , he… he’s not a  _ sadist _ . Y-  _ You’re _ probably a sadist, th- that’s why y- you’re locked up, human.”

I shrug, “Believe what you want, but I recommend exploring the rest of this lab before you reach your final conclusion.”

She squints at me in suspicion, yet walks further down the hall, deeper into the maze of green.

I hide back under my bed, hoping I did the right thing in directing her towards the boys. Based on her reaction to the idea of Gaster being a bad guy, I’m guessing she’s that “Dr. Alphys” I’ve heard so much about, his only other friend besides the king himself. She seems like a nice person, she  _ has _ to do the right thing and help the boys, right? Or what if I just informed someone even worse than Gaster? What if she was faking her innocence? What if this has all been a test?

I jump back up and focus on the lasers, forcing myself to figure out what to do. Even if she truly is innocent, I would never be able to live with myself knowing that she could accidentally do something that would hurt those boys. What if she tells Gaster that she knows and he decides we are a waste of time he should eliminate? What if she takes the boys to the king and he decides to kill them? What if she thinks it’s a good idea to experiment on them herself? I shouldn’t have based my hopes on her reactions, they’ve left too many open ended questions. 

All I can do now is accomplish the goal that has been eating at me the whole time I’ve been here: leave this damn cell on my own. If I don’t stop her, then I’ve doomed those boys forever. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been the cause of a child’s pain. 

I stare at the lasers, evaluating everything I’ve learned about them. While I did make some progress when I focused on the generators, what if it’s not meant to be a long process? Maybe I have to target my magic in one strike rather than taking a long time to manipulate it? It’s a quicker solution, and if it doesn’t work then I can go back to my original plan.

I find the generators in the wall in no time, the electricity reaching towards me like an old friend. After some manipulation, I’m able to push my magic through the wall, proud that I’m getting faster at it with every try. Once it’s inside, I form little shards of power around each generator, careful to avoid the electricity. 

_ Okay just breathe, and then strike with all the force you can muster! _

I tighten my grip on the shards, angling them around the snapping jaws of the mini lightning bolts. I wait for the briefest moment, noticing the pattern of the electrical waves. Wait… wait… and…

“What are you doing?”

All my concentration disappears at the sound of Alphys’ voice, causing my eyes to snap open and my magic to dissipate.

She stares at me with a curious yet anxious expression on the other side of the undisturbed lasers. Damn it.

“Uh, nothing, I’m just trying to remember a dream I had. You know, like when you just think you know it but you have to close your eyes and try to visualize it?”

She squints at me, but slowly nods with the faintest smile. I think I’ve just found one thing in common between us.

“Anyway, that was a quick search of the lab. Did you find anything interesting?” I ask innocently.

Her smile drops and a faint sheen of sweat forms above her brow. Hmm, so monsters don’t bleed, but they sweat? Gaster did say that they still needed to eat and drink, so I guess sweat would still be a possibility.

“Uh- uh w- well, I guess you c- could say ‘interesting,’” she stutters.

I raise an eyebrow, “How so?”

“W- well, that’s actually why I came b- back. How did y- you know about them?”

“After living down here for a few months, you tend to learn things,” I half-heartedly joke, curious about her reaction. Either she’s a really good actress, or she is genuinely freaked out.

“B- but, why are they down here? I- I thought the skeletons were wiped out during the war! Where did they come from? Why w- would he keep them locked up? It seemed like they were unharmed, they even looked comfortable! But still, why-”

“Hey, I already told you, he created them to be experiments that would ultimately allow him to achieve his goal. Well, it seems like a goal for all monsters based on how he said it.”

Her expression grows even more frightened by my casual answer, as if it was knowledge she should have learned ages ago.

“Y- you’re serious, he really is hurting them.” She takes a sharp breath, as if she’s on the verge of hyperventilating. “Oh God, I- I should’ve known he’d do something like this. With Asgore becoming more and more hopeless, I- I should’ve done something to make it right. B- but I just sat by while Dr. Gaster hurt others and himself, sacrificing everything while I did nothing!”

Okay, I don’t feel that Gaster has really “sacrificed” anything throughout this whole endeavor, but I definitely agree that he’s been hurting others while nobody stopped him.

“Uh, who’s Asgore?” I ask instead of making a comment that would probably hurt her already crushed feelings.

“Oh uh, h- he’s the king of the Underground; he always knows what to do,” she says, her eyes lighting up with an idea. “That’s right; Asgore will know what to do!”

I raise an eyebrow, a little fearful of how much faith she has in her king.

“I- I’ll come back tomorrow, a- and I’ll take them to Asgore. Th- then I’ll just ask Dr. Gaster to have a meeting with Asgore and me, a- and we’ll be able to straighten things out. It will be okay,” she says with a lack of confidence.

I’m not sure how much faith I should have in her plan, especially when I have no idea how the king will react. I begin to formulate a plan of my own, hoping I can execute it before hers.

“Well, let me know how things work out, and if it’s classified or something, can you at least tell me what happens to the boys? I’ve gotten to know them a little bit in the past few months.”

She squints at me, “H- how have you gotten to know them? I have no idea what they’re saying!”

“Oh, well I can actually understand their language.”

“How?”

“Long story short, I’ve had enough time to learn. I can understand what they say and can write it in the font of they’re language.”

“C- can you speak it?”

“Well, no I don’t think anyone can, except skeletons, but they’re literate so they know what I’m saying through writing.”

Her squinting transitions into an expression of curiosity. Does that mean she believes me?

“O- okay then, I’ll let you know what happens to them.”

I give her a nod and a slight smile of gratitude.

She’s about to turn to leave when she stops herself. “Uh, this is kind of going against all that he’s taught me about humans, but… what’s your name?”

I almost laugh, “What has he taught you about humans?”

“W- well, he told me to not care about them in any way because they hate monsters. And the few I have met did seem to hate us. And… he said to never ask their names because then I would feel a connection to them, and that would make it harder to see them die. He actually scolded me one time for asking a hu- I mean, ‘test subject’ what their name was. B- but… you clearly care about those boys so… you don’t seem to have  _ that much _ hate in you. A- and I really don't think you're going to die anytime soon, too many have already.”

I’m touched; I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in months.

“Well, thanks I guess. And my name’s Krista,” I say with a hint of joy, glad that someone actually cares to know my name for once.

She smiles, “M- my name’s Alphys and uh, don’t worry about being trapped here for much longer. While I don’t want anything bad to happen to Dr. Gaster, I honestly don’t think Asgore would allow him to continue working for some time. He needs a serious break.”

Of course! He won’t be locked up and punished for child abuse; instead he’ll be given a lovely vacation that has been well-deserved! 

I would roll my eyes and fake-cough insults if I hadn’t just found my most likely chance of escaping.

“Uh sure, well then, I’ll see you tomorrow?” I ask.

She nods with a smile, “S- sure thing! Everything will work out just fine!”

Alphys scurries back down the hall, her face still shining with sweat.

I face-palm and sigh, unsure of what I’ve just gotten myself into. I can’t tell if Alphys is really that na ï ve, or if she’s an amazing actress. Her stutter almost makes me believe she’s faking it; I don’t think Gaster would  _ ever _ have the patience to work with someone who has trouble speaking in clear sentences. However, she also seems so genuine that it’s hard to not believe she’s being completely honest.

I hide back under my bed, glancing up at the camera. Hopefully he won’t check the footage, or else we’re all dead.

While I  _ desperately _ want to pack everything up now, it’s best to wait until after he shows up in the morning. Even if Alphys is being genuine, I still don’t trust her, especially when she has so much faith in a king who advocates killing children.

Once I’m sure Gaster’s gone, I’m getting the hell out of here on my own. I’m so, so, _so_ _close_! I just need a few minutes of silence (which is not too much to ask for in this place), and I can get the three of us out of here. 

I curl up underneath my blanket, hoping I can fall asleep in an instant so I won’t have to wait. Of course, the opposite happens and I’m up for most of the night, overthinking every possibility. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, Gaster's goals that led to the summoning of the creature are completely different from the comic. (I know I keep reiterating how different things are, but I'm going to continue making that note when there are substantial changes.) There are a handful of things in this chapter that will be explained soon!
> 
> Alphys just can't help her fascination with humans, even though she's been taught to only view them as test subjects. (I'd like to think that she hasn't been around for very long in terms of monster years, probably only in her sixties.)


	38. The Talons of the Cold

I know I get at least a couple hours of sleep, but once the lights are on, I am wide awake and waiting by the doors.

He shows up after about an hour, unhappy as usual, yet he also seems...  _ nervous _ about something.

I accept my granola and water before raising an eyebrow, “Something on your mind?”

He sighs, “There are just several things I need to do, nothing more.”

“Uh-huh, well that has never seemed to bother you in the past. What’s changed?”

My comment immediately agitates him, “My priorities have changed, you would not understand.”

“Of course, because I’m a clueless child who will patiently wait for you to finish your ‘other project’ so we can get this Barrier thing underway.”

He glares at me, “While you have learned much more than most of the humans who have entered the Underground, there are still many factors you will never comprehend.”

“Yeah, because nobody ever explains  _ anything _ to me, isn’t that it? Or is it the fact that you plan for me to die before I have a chance to learn?”

He scoffs, “To be honest, I am no longer sure of how you will meet your end.”

“Aren’t we all?” I ask, trying to hide my surprise. Is he no longer planning on using the boys and me on the Barrier? After all this time? What would he do if we don’t leave today? I don’t want to find out.

My question seems to strike another nerve as he turns to leave. “As far as the Surface is concerned, you have been dead since January. Does your true death down here have any meaning then?”

I struggle to find a response, but he doesn’t care anyway. He leaves, not smirking like I would have imagined, but almost like the question was a jab at himself too.

In any case, I’d say that encounter with the creature really disturbed him; he’s been much quieter ever since. What did she say that has made him rethink the goal he’s been striving for the past few months? What would convince him to throw away everything he’s been working towards? I faintly remember her saying something about him being gone, something about no longer existing. But what would that have to do with cancelling the project? I can’t think of a good reason, but then again I never have been good at analyzing his actions.

I wait for about two hours, unsure of when the best time to leave would be. I can never tell if he’s in the lab all day or if he leaves at different times. I judge it based around the time that Alphys showed up yesterday, hoping he has some kind of schedule. 

I pack up the few belongings I usually leave outside my bag: my notebook, pen, calendar, blanket, my toothbrush, and toothpaste. I almost laugh at the fact that it’s all I have, all I will carry with me into this new world. I touch my locket before preparing my final attack against the lasers, a little shaken at the idea of discovering what’s beyond these walls. After everything that has happened and will happen to me, at least I can say I carried my love the entire journey. Now it’s time to end this part of it.  

I repeat the same process as yesterday, preparing a quick strike at the generators with my magic. I ignore everything else around me, my focus solely on the gaps in the electrical waves. Wait for it… wait for it… now!

I strike with all the power I have, driving the spikes so deep they tear through the generators and out of the walls. I gasp, my eyes snapping open as I force my magic to stop before it causes any more damage. The purple shards disappear and I collapse on the ground, trying to catch my breath. I press a hand to my forehead, slightly trembling from using so much energy. Was it worth it?

I look up and laugh the tiniest bit when I see the lasers are gone. The doorway is open; I can finally leave. I push myself up to my feet, slightly swaying before regaining my balance. This is it; I am free of this prison.

I grab my bag and cautiously step out into the hallway, almost terrified of being alone in it. The only thing to do now is to find out where the boys are being kept.

I jump when I hear footsteps in the distance, realizing they’re Alphys’. Damn it! There’s no way of avoiding her, but is there a way to convince her to not take the boys to the king?

Alphys appears from around a corner, jumping in surprise when she sees me.

“Oh- oh my gosh, h- how did you get out?”

I wave my fingers around as if I’m conducting a mystical spell, “Magic.”

Her expression remains confused, but she eventually nods.

“So, you know where the boys are?”

“Uh- y- yeah, follow me,” she stutters, simply accepting that I’m now a part of this.

I follow her through the hallway, recognizing the path at first before she takes a right turn and I have no idea where we could be going. Seriously, how could this place be any bigger than what I’ve already seen? 

As she leads, I notice that she’s about six inches shorter than me, although her hunched shoulders could be disguising her true height. For some reason, it feels good to be around someone who is shorter than me. It definitely makes her even less intimidating than she already is.

We finally reach a hallway that I realize is the one where the boys are kept when I see green lasers. They bridge a gap in the small doorway at the middle of the left side of the hall, moving in the same patterns I memorized long ago. Alphys reaches them first, a nervous smile appearing on her face.

“Uh, hello again. I- uh- I brought you something! Are you two hungry?” 

Alphys pulls what looks to be some type of candy out of her pocket before offering it in between the lasers. I don’t know why she thinks skeletons need food, although she does know a particular one differently from the way I know him. Do they need to eat? After a short pause, I immediately recognize Two’s long, slender fingers reaching out to grab it. 

“There you go, haha- uh, wait, c- can I see your hand?” she asks before gently grabbing his fingers. Her face displays confusion at first, before transforming into an expression of horror when she reads the plate bolted into his hand.

She lets go and backs up a few steps, sweat immediately gathering on her forehead. Alphys looks over to me, “I- I didn’t see it before, but… there’s no way any monster would naturally have that.”

I nod, “You see what I mean?”

She bobs her head in agreement, “Y- yes, Asgore will know how to fix this.”

My stomach tightens and I try to hide my disgust. “Do you really think he’s the best person to trust?”

“O- of course! He’s the king after all,” she says, as if he’s an old friend, which I guess he probably is.

Alphys pulls some kind of control panel out of her lab coat pocket before connecting it to a panel next to the lasers.

“O- okay, this should w- work,” she mutters.

While she fiddles with the panels, I step in front of the lasers, surprising both of the boys in the process.

“Oh, hello!” Two says, his face brightening.

I give him a smile and a small wave, making a quick observation of their cell. It’s very similar to mine, only there’s just one platform hanging on the right wall and no doors. I can see why Alphys said they looked comfortable, as there is a pillow and a small stuffed animal on their platform, some plates and cups (I guess that confirms they do need to eat), a neat stack of papers with what looks to be a Rubik’s cube on top, and One is wrapped snugly in a maroon blanket. It’s as if they have everything they would ever need in the tiny room.

“Are you with that monster?” One asks suspiciously. I nod, wondering if I have time to write a more detailed explanation.

“Are they going to do any tests?” Two asks.

My face scrunches as I fight back pity; pain is all they’ve ever known. I shake my head back and forth furiously, hoping they understand it’s a clear indication that there won’t be any tests. There will  _ never _ be any more tests.

“There won’t be any?” Two asks, hope rising in his voice.

I nod, giving him another smile.

The lasers shut off and Two leans back in surprise. One stands up, a cautious expression on his face as he grabs his brother’s hand, unsure of how to face a new world.

Alphys waves us forward as she leads us down a short line of hallways. Eventually, we reach a large room that she quickly runs to the other side of, messing with another control panel next to a tall door. The boys walk a little closer, a few steps ahead of me, but I’m not as eager as they are to find out where we’re going. The door opens and I’m blinded by light so bright I would think it’s the sun shining down on this dark place. A sudden rush of heat fills the room and I gasp, the constant goosebumps on my arms finally disappearing.

My eyes eventually adjust to the orange, yellow, and white light, allowing me to see what’s beyond the door. There’s a dark, wide bridge that leads to a white door on the far side of the next room, it looks very similar to the elevator doors I saw before. The boys follow Alphys through the door, their heads turning to look all around them.

I walk to the door and stop; the heat pulls me forward, but the cold still has its talons in me. I look back into the dark hallways, my stomach twisting when I think of the shadows that have been eating at my very soul for all these months. When I entered this place, I felt I deserved it, wracked with guilt over my dead sister and every miserable shred of who I was. Now, I think I can find a way to redeem myself in this new world. I’ll try to make it better and find a way to finally move on from my mistakes. I don’t know what the future holds, but I think I’m finally ready for it.


	39. No One Will Miss You

I immediately notice that the bridge is much warmer than the freezing ground I’m used to. While it’s not burning, it does take me quite a few steps to adjust. No matter what it takes, I’m definitely getting a decent pair of shoes in the near future. And some new socks, most of mine have holes now. Well, I guess I should get a whole new wardrobe now that I’m free, no point in hanging onto the past with threadbare clothes.

I almost laugh at myself when I realize that I’m thinking about typical girl stuff for once, a topic that is simultaneously simple and complex. Of course, I ignore it once I realize how gigantic the room is.

I look down and notice a level of similar bridges crisscrossing their paths below, all of them leading to different doors on either sides of the room. Even further below is a translucent liquid shimmering in colors of white, orange, yellow, red, and even green. That liquid must be what’s heating and lighting the whole room, but how? Is it some form of lava? I notice a few tiny doors towards the bottom with conveyor belts built just above the liquid. Large blocks of ice roll off the belts and land into the liquid, immediately melting into steam. I guess that answers my question about it being hot.

I look up and see several levels of bridges above me, noticing that some of them have incomplete railing. That seems like a safety hazard. Beyond them, a black ceiling looms above like a dark cloud. I’m about to look away when my eye catches something on one of the bridges, a figure leaning against the railing.

“O- okay, this elevator should take us to New Home where we’ll meet with Asgore. This- this is good, I can do this, and everything will work out,” Alphys stutters.

Once we stop at the elevator, I stare up at the figure, squinting to make it out. My throat tightens when I realize who it is: Gaster. If he was wearing his lab coat I probably would’ve recognized him sooner, but dark gray really blends in with the walls.

Does he see us? I can’t tell. It _seems_ like his head is turned away, and with his right socket broken, I wouldn’t think he could.

“O- okay, here’s the elevator. Come on, we don’t have much time,” Alphys squeaks.

I glance over at the boys, and while Two walks into the elevator, One is staring at the exact same person I was. My throat tightens even more when I see that his pupils are gone; there’s nothing but black pits squinting with hatred.

He looks back down when Alphys’ voice becomes more agitated as she waves us forward.

“We’re not allowed to sight-see a little?” I ask her as we step onto the elevator.

“N- not right now, there’s no time,” she insists.

Inside, there’s a cream colored panel with twelve different buttons leading to different _R_ places numbered _60-71._ Hmm, I wonder what happened to _1-59_ , I bet I’d have to find at least five other elevators that are probably hidden in obscure places. It makes me wonder why that other elevator just said the names of different places rather than possessing the numbered panel before me.

Two lifts a hand to press one of the buttons: _R-66_ , and Alphys stops him in a panic.

“N- not that one! Uh, it’s actually _R-70_ we want. W- we don’t uh, I mean we can’t- we shouldn’t- Dr. Gaster shouldn’t know yet- I don’t want to uh…” she trails off.

I quickly pull out my notebook and translate a better explanation than Alphys is creating.

_He’s on that level. She doesn’t want him to know that she knows about you two._

When the boys read my explanation, I watch their polar reactions to the information. Two nods, understanding washing over his expressive face, one of the main traits I like about him. He may look _similar_ to Gaster, but they’re nothing like each other. One on the other hand… his eyes darken once again into vacant pits, glaring at the purple-gray checkered floor. He may be tiny, but there is definitely something… _unsettling_ about his visible hatred.

I look away before he notices me staring, not wanting him to turn his wrath on me, which feels like a possibility. The elevator stops and we step out into a new area, although I feel like I’ve seen it before. It’s a gray hallway that leads to what I think is the city of New Home, based on the distant shapes at the end.

“Oh, we’re somewhere else! That’s strange, are the buttons magic?” Two asks.

I jump when I hear the doors shut and I turn, noticing that One isn’t here.

“Oh my God!” Alphys yells, running to the door. She frantically slams her finger against the “up” arrow, forcing the doors to open. I expect One to be inside, but he isn’t.

The three of us run onto the elevator and Alphys hits _R-66_ , there’s no other place he would have went.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she mutters before turning to me. “What did you tell them?”

“I just told them that he was on that floor and that you didn’t want him to know that you knew,” I say, hoping she believes me. This isn’t _my_ fault. Is it?

Alphys seems like she’s about to pass out considering how fast she’s breathing. Is she seriously afraid _for_ Gaster? I’m afraid of what might happen to One, because honestly, who _definitely is_ more powerful? Although, he was on a bridge to the right, which means the elevator would be on his blindside. Could that give One an advantage?

I glance at Two, wondering what he makes of all this. I’m surprised when I see his face set with, well… _determination_.

When the doors open, Alphys falls out asking, “Where is he?”

I hear Gaster’s voice, “What the- how did you-”

I jump out of the elevator right before the door closes, almost tripping over Alphys’ tail.

“Dr. Gaster!” she yells, holding up a hand in a panic.

“ALPHYS!” he yells right as One leaps toward him, pushing the both of them off the bridge where the railing ends.

Two races towards them, catching the top of his brother’s hospital gown just in time. Alphys runs about a foot past Two, her wild eyes fixated on Gaster’s falling body.

I stop where the railing ends, my hands clenched around the metal for support.

Two’s hand glows blue for a briefest moment before he freezes, as if he’s on the verge of a panic attack and it disappears.

“Dr. Gaster!” Alphys screams as we all helplessly watch him fall to the crystal lava below.

For some reason, a memory hits me so strongly I can’t help but compare it to now. When he said he was never surprised all those weeks ago, today is a clear contradiction to his false claim.

I lift my head, my face forming into an indifferent mask, much like his. Even though he’s so far below, I know he sees me.

“Look who is surprised now,” I say, my voice frozen with icy indifference.

“What have you done!?” I hear Alphys shriek.

I turn and see that One is back on the bridge, clutching his brother. Tears pour down Alphys’ face as she yells at them.

The light from below suddenly disappears, and I look back down to see that Gaster’s gone, buried in the darkness.

A light shines above and I look up to see a ball of white grow larger with each beat of my heart. I gasp when I realize it’s just like when the creature charged its energy blasts. Instinctively, I begin to form a shield around myself, expanding it so I can also protect the others. But I’m too late to save them.

The light expands to its greatest amount in only a few seconds, bigger than any form of energy I’ve ever seen. My body begins to tremble, but I fight to hold my ground, even as the world explodes into oblivion.


	40. Intermission: A Different Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, so this chapter is over 11,000 words and took a couple months to write, but I feel like it is necessary to tie up any loose ends for this part before moving on (of course, there are still a few mysteries, but they're meant for later in the story anyway). 
> 
> I'm not really accustomed to writing in third person, but I feel like it suits Gaster's character better. I don't address every single detail or event since that would basically be like rewriting the entire story from a different perspective, so I just keep to all of the important facts that I feel need to have more thorough explanation.
> 
> I hope this answers any questions you might have thought of while reading!

When Gaster first saw the little human, he did not think much of her. She seemed to have some trouble breathing and was clearly malnourished. Based on her size, he assumed she was around twelve-years-old at the most, but the shadows under her lashes said she was older than that. Still, no matter her age or maturity, she looked extremely fragile. What use could she have if she was so physically weak?

Before he summoned her SOUL, Gaster glanced up at the sealed door to the Ruins, as if he could see Waterfall beyond it. Even though he wasn’t the type to believe in such a frivolous desire, he still made a silent wish to the distant Echo Flowers. If she was a Determination, then everything could end before it even began.

The scientist had been formulating plans to create his own test subjects for months, but he kept making excuses that stalled the project. Fear was the easiest one, but he also made the justification that none of the human SOULs he had left were strong enough.

If this human was a Determination, then it didn’t matter how weak she was; she would be their “Savior” nonetheless.

Gaster summoned her SOUL without another thought, hating the suspense he was subjecting himself to.

A brilliant purple light illuminated the dim chasm, and Gaster’s eye sockets widened. Even though this girl was not a one-way ticket to freedom, she was the next best thing: a Perseverant.

He made sure to keep Alphys’ camera dark as he picked the human up with blue magic, then he covered it with the golden flowers. He placed the girl to the side and reactivated the camera, brushing the flowers away so Alphys would think they were the only cause for the darkness.

With many of the previous humans, Gaster didn’t care if Alphys knew about them, in fact he accepted her assistance in extracting their Determination. However, this human would be different; if Gaster was going to create the subjects he wanted, then no one must have any reason to enter his lab.

He picked the girl up with blue magic once more, making sure the light from her SOUL would not reach the camera’s view. As an afterthought, he made sure to grab the duffel bag thrown to the side; it couldn’t have been anybody else’s. Gaster liked to think he was generous in allowing her to keep some possessions, a small freedom that few other humans enjoyed. Then he walked through the concealed door that led back to his lab.

Gaster had created the door years ago, back when the monsters first lived in the Ruins. He figured there should have been an alternate “backdoor” route in case of a cave-in. Unfortunately, the Barrier forced him to curve the tunnel towards the Ruins, not in the opposite direction like he wanted. He kept digging until he reached a cavernous air pocket, far enough from the Ruins that the monsters would be safe from what had caused the original cave-in (of course, as long as it was a natural cause).

Little did Gaster know that the air pocket he discovered would become his future secret lab as the monsters left the Ruins before the tunnel was even completed. He decided not to tell anyone about it, embarrassed that all his effort did not matter. Gaster sealed his tunnel with a thick stone door, never intending to open it again.

However, after the door connecting the Ruins to Snowdin was sealed, when the queen had left… he decided to enter them through his long forgotten exit. That was when he discovered the chasm entrance to the Ruins was also sealed, as if someone had found his door and did not want him to reach them. Gaster had tried so many times to open it, but nothing worked. The scientist decided to plant a camera underneath the golden flowers, both as way to find humans before they entered the Underground, and to see if he could find whoever had sealed the Ruins. It was a far simpler and more convenient method than searching himself, an annoyance he had to deal with before the technology was created. The method to find humans worked, but he never discovered the obscure monster. Gaster tried placing other cameras, but they always went dark before the monster revealed themself. After so many years, his curiosity had diminished into nonexistence. Whoever it was wanted to be left alone and he would respect their wish.

He had his suspicions that it could have been the queen, but he didn’t want to believe she would so willingly abandon those she loved to live in isolation. However, at the same time, he feared that was an undeniable truth. Maybe her morals truly were more valuable than her people and her family...

Of course, Gaster had to reveal to Alphys the tunnel he had created, but he warned her to never enter it in case of humans. She agreed with little protest after he justified that his skills in magic and past experience with humans would make him more qualified to check. And today of all days, Gaster was exceptionally grateful for Alphys’ compliance.

When he reached his lab, Gaster knew exactly which cell he’d keep the human in. It would be a far distance from where he’d keep his subjects, just so there’d be no possibility for them to hear or interact with each other. The room was one of the few left that he did not have a camera installed in; the girl created a perfect excuse for him to finally change that circumstance. However, the lack of one for the first few weeks was also one way to test her. If she felt she had more control in the beginning, then she would be more likely to search for forms of escape. But once the camera appeared, then she would give up, afraid that Gaster would expect her moves before she made them. Of course, such predictions were mere generalizations; every human was different.

The scientist had tried a similar tactic with a previous human. Before the camera was installed the human was bolder, constantly searching for ways to fight. But when he began to feel the effects of constant surveillance, the human was tame and predictable.

A camera made the humans feel as if their minds were being read, especially when some didn’t think Gaster was watching them, and he easily foiled their pitiful escape attempts. He remembered one who kept herself locked in the bathroom at all times, paranoid of the black object in her main room’s ceiling. That human did not last long in her physical form. The stubborn ones were often subjugated to sessions or quickly had their SOULs extracted.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t do the same for this human. He needed her SOUL to be as powerful as possible in order for her to assist in destroying the Barrier.

If Gaster was truly honest with himself, he wasn’t entirely confident in the abilities of two skeletons and a Perseverant to be powerful enough against the Barrier. However, it was a last resort; he had no other options.

In the aftermath of the prince’s death alongside his human friend, Gaster decided to conduct some research on the Barrier. He had discovered that it only took a human’s SOUL and a monster’s to pass through, but it only worked for the two individuals. In order to destroy the entire Barrier, it required one of each human SOUL trait, a task they could have accomplished decades ago if that damned Determination child hadn’t died.

His request was harshly denied when he suggested crossing the Barrier with a single SOUL to Asgore. The king did not feel it was worth risking another monster’s life, especially when the humans would outnumber them.  

This would be his last attempt against the Barrier; the last option that seemed even remotely possible. After that, he would have no other choice but to wait for a Determination human, however long that would take.

In the meantime, Gaster needed to know whether or not this human was up to the task of advancing her magic. If she was as frail as she appeared, then it would be a very long wait before he could create his subjects. Once they were conscious, they would begin to grow and age quickly. He predicted it would only take six months before the subjects were powerful enough to take on the Barrier, or at least he hoped they would. Gaster knew he wouldn’t be able to keep two secrets from the king and Alphys for long, so he had to be certain the human was a viable source of power before proceeding with the subjects’ creation.

 ***** ************

The wait wasn’t long; only twenty minutes from the time they arrived in his lab to the time she woke up. It was plenty of time for him to glance through her belongings, just to see what he could learn about her. While some of her items could have potentially been threats to him, such as the lighter she carried, he would allow her to keep it for the time being. The more control she felt she had in the beginning, the less likely she would be able to effectively utilize her tools. A level of confidence usually gave way to a hubristic attitude, especially when the humans thought Gaster didn’t know about their advantages. He would make sure to crush that arrogance before they truly realized their capabilities.

What had fascinated him about this human in particular, were the two books she carried. With only a few glances through, he was able to deduce that one was a vague account of the War and the other had general descriptions about SOULs. While the information definitely seemed rudimentary, she clearly knew more than the humans from the past two hundred years.

As she regained consciousness with shaky gasps, he could feel her SOUL’s strength increase by the smallest degree. He placed the books back into the open duffel bag, slightly irritated that he couldn’t investigate them more, but the scientist reminded himself to be patient. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have many opportunities in the near future.

The human looked around in a daze before covering her eyes, attempting to even-out her breathing.

Gaster sat patiently, accustomed to the long processes humans took to bring themselves out of their stupors. Some woke up in a panic, while others like this one, took their time.

He already knew how he wanted to present himself: as a figure not to be trifled with. Of course, then the human would associate his personality with all monsters, believing they were creatures of cruelty. But in the end, her opinion didn’t matter. This human girl would never have the chance to meet any other monsters. Why would it matter if she thought they were all cruel and emotionless?

The scientist had implemented this technique with the very first humans he kept in his lab: the first few repeat traits. Since it had only been a couple centuries since the wars, they believed the stories that were not yet legends, and they hated him simply because of the hell their ancestors experienced. He reciprocated the sentiment, the wounds still not calloused enough to ignore.

A few centuries later, Gaster attempted a different tactic: he tried to be kind to three humans he found. They had free roam of the lab, give or take a few rooms and three full meals a day. They weren’t forced to do any experiments or sessions; although two willingly volunteered at first, believing the benefits would bring monsters and humans closer to equality. They were… happy, to an extent. The problem was that one of them took advantage of that kindness, selfishly asking for more. He wanted to leave the lab, ignoring Gaster’s reasons about the dangers of being a human in the Underground. Not only that, but their improvements in magic were pathetic in comparison to the humans who were treated with contempt.

That situation only lasted for a month, and he felt no pity for them as his assistants extracted the children’s Determination from their weak SOULs. It was a reasonable experiment, although it yielded the expected results. Humans were selfish; they always took advantage of kindness, especially when it came from monsters. He would never again waste time on confirming that ideology.

Every human afterwards was treated like a test subject; some were more gruesomely experimented on than others. The stronger traits arguably had it the worst, but why wouldn’t they? The magic of Justice and Integrity SOULs allowed them to take the blood loss, mental trauma, and pain of forcing their traits to change into something they weren’t. In the end, none of those experiments benefited Gaster in terms of breaking the Barrier, but they did allow him to learn more about the strengths of humans.

Resilience was the most common theme among the more powerful ones; they all quickly stood up after they were knocked down. But as time progressed, and the pain ate away at them, they all reached their breaking points eventually. It was when they broke, when they either gave up fighting or attempted to kill themselves with their own magic, did Gaster question if his tests were truly necessary. Many of his assistants certainly did; it led to many monster scientists moving their work away from the royal lab and Gaster’s influence. They decided on work that specifically benefited monsters rather than working towards a seemingly impossible goal. For a time, Gaster began to agree with them. So he gave up his work with human SOULs and dedicated decades to designing and building the Core. The structure truly was his greatest and most advantageous achievement for the entire Underground, but he felt there was more to be done. The Barrier continued to plague his mind, and he finally gave in to the insistent idea of finding an alternative. But from then on, he was either working alone, or with only a handful of uncomplaining assistants.

Now he stared at the latest addition to his collection of human SOULs, reminding himself that he could not conduct as many experiments on this human as he would like to. The only permissible tests would be those relating to her magic, specifically strengthening it. Considering how underwhelming her stature was, it would have been risky to conduct any extreme tests on her anyway if he wanted her to last for more than one.

After a few minutes, the human finally looked to her right, her eyes immediately widening in fear at the sight of the sentient skeleton. She leaped up and pushed her back into the wall, as if it would make her disappear. Gaster raised an eye socket before releasing a sigh; these humans had become more and more fearful over the years. Their reactions led him to believe that monsters had become nothing more than legends to the Surface-dwellers, how insulting. It seemed that even with knowledge, this human didn’t truly believe the texts she carried.

“Hello human,” Gaster said in the least welcoming voice he could muster.

The girl jumped at the sound of his voice, attempting to push herself even further against the wall. However, despite her fear, he admired her refusal to break eye contact. It allowed him to get a good look at her eye color, a dark purple that matched her SOUL. She was definitely meant for advanced magic.

He kept his explanation to her short and bitter, already establishing _he_ was in control. Although he knew her opinion would change once she believed he was entirely careless. It was all a matter of time.

* ***** ***********

If there was one factor that separated her from any other human he had encountered, it was her unusual secrets, the types that seemed to hide in plain sight. The thick scars on the back of her neck and her instinctual resistance to magic were the most intriguing of his observations. Gaster decided a memory test would be the best solution in answering his increasing number of questions.

The scientist knew the amount of magic necessary would only provide one memory, but it was all he needed. Even though the girl’s most recent memory, before her fall, seemed to be very dramatic, it would not have as great of an impact on her as one from years prior would. It was an easy choice when he discovered the night she gained her scars. The memory was practically highlighted in red as the scanners displayed she had mulled over it countless times.

The memory said so much about her character, and it gave the most basic summary of her life. If Gaster searched within the depths of his feelings, he would realize the shred of pity he had for the girl, for the sacrifice she made. He learned that her name was Krista, but of course he would never call her that. To say her name would be recognizing that he saw her as a fellow living being instead of the test subject he was trying to convince her she was. So Gaster focused on what her suffering meant in relation to her magic potential.

The Perseverant had true promise. If only she wasn’t so resistant…

** ***** **********

Before their brief training session, he made note of how she looked when reading her history book, as if it was her first time learning about its contents. After their session, he noticed she had moved on to the SOUL book, one that seemed more dangerous in what she could learn. If it really was her first time reading them, then he needed to make sure there was no content that would give her unfair advantage, especially since he gave her the keys to accessing her true potential.

Gaster knew there was no longer a need to rip out her SOUL by the second memory test, the girl was practically immune to the pain by then. It was reason enough for him to begin taking away anything she could have used against him. First the lighter, then the boots, and then her last bit of food simply as a small message of who had control. As her power increased, he knew he had to keep that fact a constant reminder.

The scientist saw no value in running any more memory tests, the “torture sessions” (as one human had called it) usually revealed one’s worst memories anyway. But he wanted just one more example of her home life, and a larger sample of her true personality. Softer humans were easier to manipulate. However, despite her seemingly quiet demeanor, she was fairly quick to establish a snappy attitude with him.

So he decided to tap into her darker thoughts near the end of the memory, figuring there was just enough magic left to do the trick. It wasn’t harmful, especially in comparison to what the Determination could do to her in a session. It was also his way of checking her Self-Status, a condition monsters could read on themselves, but not on others, especially not humans. While she was exposed to the barest truth of her insecurities, he could poke into her SOUL’s Status.

He had to admit, it was surprising to discover she had gained L.O.V.E., it was Level Two in fact. It usually took several monster kills for a human to increase their L.O.V.E. by one Level, but since humans were equal matches in terms of entities, it only took one or two kills, depending on the traits and the killer’s intentions.

He decided to see just how much she loathed what she had become, baiting her into admitting that she believed she had a resistant mind. Interestingly enough, her self-confidence was even lower than he expected. There was no way she had willingly gained L.O.V.E. then.

*** ***** *********

When Gaster felt her SOUL’s aura in the vent behind him, he held back the smirk that was forming around his teeth. He wrote a note to himself to tell her eventually that he knew, it just needed to be the right time.

“It will never work at this pace,” he muttered bitterly, both to himself and the human. It was time for him to create his subjects. The girl had proven her potential for magic; he just needed to give her the remaining tools.

Unfortunately, he didn’t expect the phone call from Alphys to screech the embarrassing ringtone she had insisted he set for her. His colleague was strange, but her childish admiration for human cartoons was a little endearing; he couldn't help but uphold her request.

“Yes, Dr. Alphys?” Gaster said in a tone slightly harsher than what he normally used with her. He didn’t want the human to hear the friendliness he usually expressed when he was around her.

“O-oh, I’m sorry if I- I’m bothering you Dr. Gaster, but Asgore w- was wondering if you could meet about the Core?” she said in her squeaky voice.

The topic of discussion was no surprise, but it usually meant there were issues. Gaster hated discussing such problems, nearly ashamed that after all these years they were still facing defects in his creation. “The Core? Yes, just schedule the meeting for whenever His Majesty can discuss it.”

“W- well, he was wondering if you could have the meeting now, apparently it’s urgent.”

“Now?” he sighed, suddenly over-aware of the human behind him.

“Well, I- I could try to see if he’ll reschedu-”

“No, it’s fine, I can do it. Tell him I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

Gaster didn’t like cutting her off in such a rude fashion, but he’d just explain to her that his busy schedule was causing the irritated attitude.

The scientist figured the human wouldn’t do much harm if he left her in the vents. Most of them led to rooms locked from the outside anyway, and those that led into the hallways were already sealed. Although he did make sure to gather anything relating to his plans for his subjects, she didn’t need to know any of that just yet.

While he was confident she would go to the room containing the SOULs, he still made sure to lock the door, just in case.

With the human distracted, it was the perfect opportunity for him to grab her book about SOULs. It sat on top of her duffel bag, right next to the history text.

When he scanned it later that night, he found exactly what he didn’t want her to know: how to control another being’s SOUL. It was similar to his blue magic, only humans could manipulate their victims to the point of killing someone they loved.

He tore out the five pages describing that information, finding the following two sections were even worse. They were both speculative, but they would’ve also given her ideas to try out. The first one discussed L.O.V.E. and Execution Points in greater detail. If she truly understood the magnitude what she had already begun to gain, then she would be even more inclined to attack him, fueling her magic with darker and more powerful intentions he knew he couldn’t combat. The second one offered ideas on how to Save and Load points of time itself. While the book acknowledged that the ability was most likely only available to Determined SOULs, it still offered suggestions that hinted a weaker SOUL could do it.

Sure, Gaster would be fine with offering the girl more information in the future, once she understood escape was impossible. Until then though, he could not risk her knowing things like _this_.

He tore out the remaining pages and burned them; no human should ever know such dangerous information, even if she wasn’t a Determination.  

**** ***** ********

Gaster couldn’t waste any more time; he had to create his subjects _now_ , and still he would need to keep the human alive for about six months, judging by how much he would be able to accelerate their growth rate. Of course, his only hesitation now was the pain of cutting the bone… and the noise it would cause. Even if he bit down on leather and conducted the procedure as far from her as possible, he refused to risk her hearing his screams.

It was a simple sedative, one he had discovered nearly a century ago from a human who was dependent on the drug. The Kindness SOUL had called it a “phenobarbital,” claiming it was for his occasional seizures and insomnia, yet he spoke the facts as if an adult had fed him the lines, not as if he truly believed them. It was clear the eight-year-old had come from a troubled home-life, every human who entered the Underground did. Only that one in particular was specifically damaged by the dull numbness of drugs, they were all he carried with him.

The dose for the Perseverant wasn’t much, but it was substantial in relation to her size, enough to keep her out for about ten hours. While she’d find out about his hands eventually, he decided to mask his reasoning for knocking her out with installing a camera. Her sudden boldness to leave her cell after all that time would be enough justification in her eyes for why he did it.

Peanut butter and jelly was an easy vessel to hide the drug in, although one human had claimed many of their kind were allergic to peanuts. If that was the case with the Perseverant, then he’d simply wait for her to become desperate enough to at least eat the bread and jelly; it would be enough.

He decided to give the book about SOULs back to her since any information she would learn from it would be harmless. Besides, it would shut her up from asking as many questions as she already did.

When he arrived at her cell, the human was already standing near the lasers. Her arms were crossed judgmentally, but her surprise was clear as she stared at the sandwich.

“What no more granola?” she asked in her usual snarky tone.

“Do you want it or not?” he snapped, his anxiety transforming into anger.

She grabbed the plate and book as quickly as possible and he left just as fast.

“Hey, wait!” she yelled, clearly confused.

He didn’t stop as he left to retrieve the camera, allotting thirty minutes for her to eat and for the drug to take effect. If she was allergic to peanut butter, then they’d most likely have a short argument before he left her to reach desperation. Fortunately, the circumstances occurred better than he had hoped, as he heard her collapse right as he reached her cell.

She was lying on her side in the room’s left corner, almost hiding underneath the platform. It was almost comical how much the humans attempted to appear strong, when they were so clearly helpless in unconsciousness. Gaster looked up at the center of the ceiling, almost wishing he didn’t know exactly how to install a camera to delay the inevitable pain. Only, when he looked at the girl again, he remembered exactly why all of this must be done. The past two months wouldn’t be for nothing; she _would_ use her power on the Barrier, alongside the subjects that would exist by _that night_ . Gaster set up the camera as fast as possible, reminding himself of _who_ he was doing all of this for, and the scientist continued to listen to those guilt-ridden thoughts until morning.

***** ***** *******

As slight rewards for her cooperation, Gaster was willing to give the human some extra variety in her daily nutrition by adding apples, a few of Alphys’ instant noodle cups, and cinnamon rolls for her upcoming three weeks of isolation. However, he made sure the girl understood _very clearly_ that she was only being rewarded for doing what he told her to do. He had been writing the various skills for her to learn for the past two months, titling the notebook _Basic Skills and Forms of Human Magic_ so she’d expect learning them to be easy.

Gaster admitted, her cooperation was relieving, as so many humans before her kicked and screamed whenever they were given simple tasks. Yet here was a human who was afraid of using magic, and she easily agreed to learn from only a simple threat. Her request for a calendar was so amusing, Gaster agreed to give her one; he was even willing to let her know how long she’d been there. All of the humans lost track of time so easily, and based on how much this girl slept, she probably thought less than a month had passed.

The scientist didn’t care to use calendars anyway, there was barely any room to fit a single task on the small squares; yet every year _somebody_ gave him one, especially certain colleagues who barely knew him. This year’s calendar in particular was themed with general landscape pictures of the Underground. He wasn’t bothered by the fact that she would know what it looked like, the most she would ever see in person was New Home.

When Gaster reached her cell with the calendar, he was actually _surprised_ to see she had created a shield extending past the lasers. It hadn’t even been twenty minutes! Cautiously, he reached out to touch the shield, curious as to how strong it was. The human’s eyes snapped open and she looked up, quickly fixated on his hand. His fingers slightly twitched to grip the calendar and marker tighter, angry with himself for being so careless. Of course, she was bound to find out, but he didn’t want to hear her _comments_ when the pain was still throbbing.

Her shield disappeared and he turned off the lasers, tossing the calendar and marker at her as if she were a dog. While it seemed arguably safer to hand her items through the lasers, he had designed the magic of the lasers to be attracted to the presence of human SOULs. It harmed them in ways that monsters’ SOULs were immune to. However, Gaster wasn’t entirely cruel; he always eliminated that barrier of possible pain when giving items to the human subjects. In terms of a more scientific reasoning, it was also a test to see just how tempted they would be to run. There had been a couple humans that made the poor decision to attempt running.

The girl’s eyes squinted a bit before she asked, “Did you have some issues with a hole puncher?”

Obviously, the cuts were larger than any hole puncher that ever existed, but her insult was clear. Despite her disrespect though, he was willing to admit her creation of a shield so quickly was impressive. The glimpse of shock on her face before he walked away brought a faint smirk to his teeth. Dealing with humans was always more entertaining if they were left guessing what he’d say next, it was just another form of controlling them.

****** ***** ******

Gaster raised an eye socket at the computer screen when she began packing up her few belongings, clearly anxious to leave. After so much practice with her magic he would have thought she’d be tired, yet she seemed more alert than ever. The girl wasn’t entirely stupid; she had waited twenty minutes after the lights had dimmed before making any preparations. However, she assumed too much about him. Clearly she thought he left every night, but he didn’t think she’d risk getting caught after the camera was installed. If anything he was expecting the girl to do it sometime beforehand, yet she denied her very trait through what he assumed was guilt over the events that led her to the Underground. It was clear she hadn’t realized that the lights were on a timer: bright for sixteen hours, dim for eight hours. A calendar was not the same as a clock.

He flipped through the video feed of the various rooms until he reached the one he assumed she’d go to, silently thanking himself for placing his surveillance room on the other side of the lab rather than the one near her cell. The human knew she had no idea where to run, even if she found a way out of the lab. It was the most logical option for her to ask the other humans where the safest areas of the Underground were. Not five minutes later, she crawled out of the vent and dropped to the table.

Gaster decided it was the perfect opportunity to teach her once and for all who had control. He had allowed her to travel the vents and believe she could escape with no consequences, and now she would regret leaving her cell. He grabbed a dustpan from a nearby storage closet, a vague plan formulating as he traveled.

The scientist wasn’t surprised when he felt her SOUL’s aura outside the door. Her strength had grown, yet there was so much she still lacked. He decided to give her a chance to run back to her cell when he brightened the lights in the hallway, yet she didn’t seem to notice when he heard her talking.

“I thought we already discussed that,” she snapped on the other side of the door. A moment of silence passed before she said, “Yes, which one was next?” Gaster held back a sharp laugh; she was definitely trying to find a way out. The next pause was a bit longer, giving him time to unlock the door as he waited for the right moment to enter.

“I’m sorry, but I’m just trying to find out where I can go!” she yelled, allowing him the grand entrance of slamming the door against the wall.

The light from the SOULs dimmed and she turned to face him alone, her eyes wide with terror. The scientist decided a different approach could be used this time, instead of cold indifference he could try a more… sinister attitude, just to see her reaction. So he allowed the idea of her searching for safe refuge to amuse him, a smirk forming around his teeth as he stared down at her.

The human backed up a few steps and squared her shoulders, displaying confidence they both knew she didn’t possess.

“Has it already been three weeks? Man, time flies when you’re studying fourteen hours a day,” she said with a shrug, attempting to hide the tremors in her voice.

“You humans are all the same,” he said, forcing another smirk onto his face. He had learned a long time ago that humans hated to be generalized, as if they didn’t exist as individuals but rather like colonies of bugs.

She attempted to keep her responses casual, but he saw her bravado crumbling with each try. It made him realize just how tiny she was, especially as she hunched her shoulders when she backed up. The sight made him doubt her strength, especially as her eyes widened in innocent surprise when he told her how long she had waited to enter the vents. Gaster didn’t want innocence; he wanted _motivation_. A human like her certainly had it, however she was allowing fear to control her. He glanced at the Justice SOUL when its glow brightened, no doubt saying some form of insult. The others remained dark, yet he knew they were still conscious. He didn’t need them anymore, not with a Perseverant. All of their Determination had been extracted, leaving them as husks of their former traits. Even though every human SOUL was dominated by a single trait, they were still composed of the other six to shape the individual’s personality and strength.

He walked over to the tube containing the Patience SOUL, faintly remembering the blonde-haired girl who once possessed it. She was an average specimen in comparison to the others; her magic was as basic as humans could be, yet she always held a hope for the future that distinguished her from all the others. The scientist focused on the fact that she was now entirely useless when he dropped the tube. There was no room for guilt over what he had done to them, and besides, they would ultimately find peace once they became dust. A small mercy for them that he was finally willing to provide.

The Perseverant stared at the remains of the SOUL in shock, her hand covering her mouth. “I never meant for any of this to happen,” she said.

Gaster found it intriguing that she took the blame for the death of the Patience SOUL; she didn’t even glance at him to point a finger at the true murderer.

She didn’t react at all until he held the tube of the Justice SOUL, finally displaying the fighting spirit he knew she had. He threw her back against the table with his magic, realizing the action was a bit more difficult than before. It had to have been because he was now lacking parts of his SOUL, yet she didn’t seem to notice the faint weakness, thankfully.

Once the Justice SOUL was dust, the scientist released his magic, waiting for the human to snap. She didn’t disappoint as the ease of forming a magic dagger seemed to have come naturally to her through anger. Gaster reacted the way she would expect, by taking control of the situation and once again reminding her of how powerless she was.

As she recovered from being thrown into the walls, he retrieved the dustpan from the hallway, carelessly throwing it in front of her. He remembered to continue the amused act just as she looked up, yet he could not muster a tone that matched how he pretended to feel. “Once you clean up the mess you can go back to your cell,” he said in a tone that sounded bored.

“You expect me to sweep up glass with my bare hands?” she said hoarsely.

“That is exactly what I want you to do,” Gaster replied in a voice that had shifted to the monotone she was familiar with. Then he slammed the door with his magic, making sure the knob remained unmoving as she fought to turn it. She would give up eventually, he only wondered if she’d obey and clean up the mess.  

To give her time, he went to her room and sealed the vent with a simple spell he had learned centuries ago. That was back when there were still a few humans who preferred to live peacefully with monsters. In those times, humans tended to rely on spoken spells rather than summoning their magic by will. He inferred the cause of the change was due to the loss of those ancient spells as the magic humans possessed became more dormant over time.  

Now she had nowhere to go and no one to speak to. Would the isolation and loneliness cause her to break down? Similar circumstances had broken a Justice SOUL, was the Perseverant any different?

He waited outside the door until he heard her say, “Do you want me to crawl through the vents or are you going to chaperone me through the hallways?”

She was most likely speaking to the camera, or did she know he was standing there? No, she wasn’t _that_ attuned to her magic, her SOUL would have to be much stronger than its current level.

When he opened the door she was facing the camera, as expected.

He decided to drop the attempt at appearing to believe he was superior, while it did intimidate her, the act did little else to benefit him. He decided snide comments were the best forms of communication with her, considering how much she relied on sarcasm when addressing him.

Once she was in her cell, she ignored him, scraping the dust out from underneath her cracked and broken fingernails. He waited patiently, curious to see her reaction if he mockingly addressed her fragile feelings. The girl didn’t disappoint; her anger was clear as she bit out insults and her shoulders trembled. However, she could have also been shivering from the cold.

Her resilience proved one fact: this Perseverant was not going to break as easily as the others, which meant she was ready for a session.

******* ***** *****

In the aftermath of her session, Gaster finally felt comfortable with revealing more information to her. There was no way she could utilize it against him, and if he was honest with himself, it actually felt... _nice_ to talk to someone about his plans, even though she was a victim of them.

He noticed almost immediately that her magic had intensified from the session, as he had hoped. If the humans weren’t broken, then they were strengthened through experiencing their mind’s worst terrors. Only two other SOULs had ever prevailed from the same circumstances: a Justice and surprisingly, a Kindness. While it was a considerable risk to encourage the enhancement of a SOUL with so much potential, he did not have many other options. If she was going up against the Barrier, then she needed to be as powerful as possible.

Since her knowledge factored into her power, he was willing to let her learn his font. The news that she had encountered what seemed to be Chara without his knowledge had angered him enough to unintentionally curse under his breath. How was _she_ able to influence the session? That selfish girl was _dead_ . The scientist wasn’t sure what to make of the possibility that Chara had an otherworldly influence on reality, despite the fact that she _should_ be deceased. It unnerved him to think of just how powerful Determinations were, even in death.

When the Perseverant asked what Gaster had said, he decided his font would be another beneficial factor to help her magic. He wrote a few notes to himself to remember to give her the book he had on fonts, although he’d make sure to black out his name. That was one of the most important facts he was not willing to share with her.

******** ***** ****

He knew she’d hear either of the subjects’ screams when he drilled the plates into their hands, and he knew she would address them. However, he refused to acknowledge her hints of the questions. While he was more generous with his explanations, he made sure they were only about topics he brought up. Otherwise, she would simply have to wallow in her curiosity.

********* ***** ***

Gaster wasn’t upset that she communicated with Subject One; in fact, he was quite impressed at how quickly she had already learned the basics of his language. It made him wonder just how much stronger she could become both mentally and magically. He noticed she had written something on her calendar for the twenty-eighth of April. Upon closer inspection he saw it was her sister’s birthday; it was the perfect opportunity to test her considering how emotionally compromised she would already be.   

He was honestly surprised at how she unknowingly manipulated the Determination to her will. Instead of further torment, she able to find a fragile sense of peace through saying goodbye to the illusions of her family. It made him wonder if the human was actually aware of how much mental strength she could wield. She evidently wasn’t, considering her weak responses to his statements. Or perhaps the session was still too draining for her to think of the events that transpired within it. Either way, he knew it was now time to view how she would respond to the Barrier.

Asgore had noticed it first, back when the Determination human lived with them. He said he had sensed Chara’s strength grow when he showed her the Barrier, to teach her about why they couldn’t go to the Surface as a family. He said her Determination felt stronger after that, and she talked about breaking the Barrier more often afterwards.

When the next human to enter the Underground traveled to Asgore, he noticed that the Barrier had seemed to weaken the child. The boy had barely put up a fight despite his Bravery trait. Gaster decided to test this on any human that ever encountered him. It was seemingly random, how the humans reacted. His only conclusion was that their reactions reflected their self-esteems and their associations with magic.

Of course, the second Asgore had told Gaster about the Bravery SOUL, he volunteered to cross the Barrier with it to find the remaining six. For the first time in a century, Gaster allowed himself to feel hope. Hope in seeing Asgore happy again. Hope in seeing peace again. Hope in seeing the rain again.

But that hope was decimated in seconds, all with a simple _no_. Gaster did not want to argue with his king, but that hope drove him to keep up the fight for an hour. In the end though, his protests meant nothing. Asgore hid the SOUL and refused to tell anyone where it was, especially Gaster.

So when he began to find humans before they entered the Ruins, Gaster decided to do the one action he had never considered before: disobey his king.

He almost succeeded, so much so that he was at the very end of the black and white hallway, the Integrity human’s SOUL in his grasp. He could nearly see the light of the night sky, almost feel the wind blowing across the Surface. But was he prepared to face the humans almost four centuries after they had sealed the monsters away? How would they react? How would he survive in the coming weeks to find the remaining four SOULs? His hesitance was his demise, and Asgore stormed into the room with a bullet pattern of fireballs surrounding him.

Asgore knew spells too, and a few months later he finally admitted that he had placed one over the Barrier to alert him whenever someone entered the room. Despite Gaster’s anger, he accepted his king’s denial for him to cross the Barrier.

“ _If all of us can’t leave, then none of us will leave_ ,” was his justification on multiple occasions, but Gaster knew his other reasons too, ones he struggled to accept.

From then on, Asgore was always present when Gaster tested the humans’ reactions to the Barrier.  Even though it infuriated the scientist, at least the presence of the king intimidated the humans into cooperating better than normal.

Of course, there were still some humans that made it difficult, especially the more rebellious subjects. A couple had even tried to run through the Barrier, but Gaster knew they couldn’t leave unless they also had a monster SOUL under their control. It was quite amusing to see the magic zap them back to the entrance of the room. The Barrier would allow humans in alone, but they could never leave the same way.

With the Perseverant however, Gaster knew he didn’t want Asgore to know about her. After hiding her from everyone for so long, the king would be more than suspicious, most likely even enough to consult Alphys to investigate the lab. Asgore didn’t know about the second, larger lab Gaster had constructed below the main one, but Alphys did. And finding his subjects was the last thing he wanted her to discover.

The scientist knew he couldn’t destroy the spell, but he _could_ suppress it enough that Asgore would not be alerted until after he tested the Perseverant. He had never suppressed it before mainly out of respect for his king, despite the several times he was tempted to leave whenever finding a new human SOUL. Unfortunately, with his current strength deteriorating at an increasingly rapid rate, Gaster knew he would not have much time to conduct a thorough test, especially if the Perseverant tried anything. It was a factor he was counting on to occur.

The session really had worn her out as she slept into early Sunday morning. It probably would have been even longer if his patience had not diminished. The test had to be when most of the Underground was asleep, especially Asgore.

Gaster predicted her strength would increase at the Barrier, considering the confidence she had gained in wielding magic. Of course, he was slightly nervous whether or not _he_ was strong enough to combat her if she attempted to fight with enhanced power. However, even if she did, the human didn’t know that she couldn’t escape the Underground on her own. It seemed even advantageous to allow her to run to where the Barrier met the Surface. He had seen enough of her attempts against the lasers to know she hated being zapped by electricity, and the Barrier was hundreds of times more painful based on how the others had reacted.

He was generous enough to bring her two granola bars before they would leave, knowing she’d immediately complain about eating before she even jumped off the platform. In the dim light of the hallway, he saw she was sleeping on her back for once. Interesting, considering she normally faced the wall most nights, as if she was trying to hide from the camera even in unconsciousness.

She didn’t disappoint when she complained about food in less than a minute from waking up. Gaster admitted, she did appear to be much weaker physically in comparison to how she looked in January, and that was saying something. Of course it was his fault, but he felt no guilt. The girl should take it as a compliment to herself that she was still considerably strong despite her limitations.

He was glad for her silence on their walk to the Barrier; it seemed answering more of her questions led to longer periods of quiet (although he knew the experience would generate more inquiries in her mind). She was so quiet that Gaster was almost nervous she would run off, yet her SOUL’s aura remained a constant presence behind him. He snuck a few glances at her just see her reactions to the new surroundings; the girl displayed her emotions as clearly as Alphys did, making the personality trait almost endearing, a juxtaposition to his personal preference of hiding his emotions. The Perseverant’s eyes shone with awe at the grand structure of the golden room, slowing her down from keeping pace with him. He kept walking, as if he had no doubts that she would catch up.

When he reached the Barrier entrance, he knew she was still in the Throne Room, most likely admiring the flowers as all the other humans had done before her. It gave him just enough time to enact the suppression spell over Asgore’s warning one. Only mages with the knowledge of spells could sense them, and Gaster found it surrounding the entrance as quickly as if neon tape was blocking the doorway. He quietly spoke the suppression spell, knowing it would only last about ten minutes before Asgore was alerted.

The human caught up with him, and when they entered the Barrier room, he noticed her reaction immediately. The girl’s hands gathered above her heart, and her face contorted as she fought to hold back tears. The scientist wasn’t entirely surprised that she reacted with pain, considering many of her experiences with magic were associated with the sensation. However, he did not predict that she’d have such an extreme reaction to the Barrier’s influence. It told him two facts: she still feared the capabilities of magic, and her power had become stronger than he had realized.

Of course he hadn’t realized, even if a being improves extremely rapidly within a short period of time, those around them will not be as aware of it as strangers would be.

When she backed up toward the door, his original intent in using blue magic was to simply tell her they would leave when _he_ said they would. But when she fought back and he felt his own strength waver, he finally lost his temper with the human. As she screamed from the pain the Barrier’s power caused her, he glanced at the end of the hallway. He could take her SOUL right then and there, leave before Asgore came and be back with a Determination before anyone knew. Maybe the girl even knew a Determination human...

But as he watched the Perseverant writhe in agony, he feared the pain would kill her before they even made it to the end of the hallway. He would still be able to leave even if she died, but how would he navigate the human world, a millennium since he’d seen it, on his own? How would he be able to find a Determination human without being killed first? Even though humans no longer held knowledge about magic on the Surface, they still possessed other weapons that would be just as effective. And in his current condition, there was no way he would win on his own. If he needed one more reason to not leave, then it was his subjects, creating them would be for nothing if he left now.

He looked down at the human, feeling slightly better about himself at the sight of her pain. “Do you realize what this place is, little human?” he asked her, furious with himself that his voice was slightly shaky from anger.

The girl looked up at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes, displaying a similar expression of innocence to the one she had before he destroyed the SOULs. She looked towards the end of the hall, wincing and shaking as she fought to observe through the darkness.

“The Barrier,” she gasped, looking away. “This is the Barrier.”

“Well done, it seems you _are_ perceptive after all this time. If only you’d learn that any efforts you make to run are _meaningless_ ,” he bit out the words like venom, fueling his anger into them.

He expected the girl to protest, yet she threw him off guard when she pressed her forehead into the ground, accepting defeat.

The sudden silence reminded him that the suppression spell only had about four minutes left, and he turned to leave the room, knowing she’d follow eventually.

“I’m done with you for the day, you can either lay there and die, for all I care, or you can follow,” Gaster snapped, knowing the statement would motivate her. He almost wondered if leaving her in the Barrier room reminded her of when her father left her to die in the snow while she bled from the whip lashes.

The thought made him once again feel the faintest tug of guilt that had been plaguing him off and on for the past millennium. It was guilt that others had to suffer because he couldn’t find any alternatives. Guilt that so many prices were paid over a conflict that didn’t even involve most of the victims. But like every time before and every time to come, he buried the guilt with reminders of why his actions were necessary for all of monsterkind. The pain of a few humans, or a couple test subjects, or a single scientist was worth it if the outcome meant everyone else could leave the prison of the Underground.

********** ***** **

Gaster wasn’t surprised to receive a call from Alphys not five minutes after the Perseverant was back in her cell. His colleague's voice shook as she informed the scientist of the king’s request for the two of them to meet in his Throne Room.

Gaster entered with his head held high, not surprised that the king was wearing his usual cape and armor, despite how early in the morning it still was. If Asgore knew he had something serious to speak about, he always made sure to look the part of a king.

“You wanted to speak with me, Your Majesty?” the Royal Scientist said professionally.

“Gaster, can you tell me why you were in the Barrier room a few minutes ago?” Asgore said in a dark tone, so unlike his usual cheerfulness.

“I was checking up on it, for my research,” the doctor said simply.

“At almost two in the morning?”

“I am having another one of my late nights,” Gaster replied.

Asgore sighed and rubbed his forehead, a clear sign he was preparing for a debate.

“How many times do I need to ask you to let this go? A Determination human will fall when they fall. In the meantime, maybe you should focus on the issues with the Core rather than searching for alternatives that don’t exist.”

Gaster couldn’t help but protest, some of his buried hope arising, “And what if a Determination never comes? What if the girl was our only chance?”

“Do. Not. Speak about my daughter that way,” the king snapped.

Gaster bit back the other words he had on the subject. Asgore knew his Royal Scientist never approved of Chara; she was the one topic they could never speak about cordially. Even when the entire Underground rejoiced as their king accepted a human into the royal family, Gaster continued to protest behind closed doors.

In the end, Gaster knew he was right all along, but Asgore’s misery hurt him too much to say “I told you so.” He wouldn’t have said it even if the king hadn’t lost his wife and son.

“Fair enough, but let’s say hypothetically, she was the first and last Determination to enter the Underground. We would be stuck here permanently, and you’re willing to accept that possibility?” the scientist asked.

“There is no guarantee, that is why I haven’t considered it,” the king said, his resolve weakening as he wondered how likely that possibility was.

“If you would just allow me to pass through the Barrier, then I could speed up the process. I would not even use one of your six SOULs in case a Determination fell before I came back. There are still a few in my lab, granted they are not as preserved as the six, but I’m sure they would still wor-”

“ _No_ ,” the king of the Underground said quietly.

Gaster sighed, just soft enough that the king wouldn’t notice. He hated seeing what Asgore had become: miserable yet stubborn, cheerful but lonely, wishful while controlling. In the aftermath of the prince’s death and the queen’s disappearance, the king had changed, and the Royal Scientist could see him deteriorating with every day. He especially saw it now, in the deep lines creased around Asgore’s eyes from sorrow and the manner in which his shoulders slumped in defeat. The sight strengthened Gaster’s resolve to speed up the process in finding an alternate method to breaking the Barrier.

As much as the king demanded that he ignore the possibility, his protests only motivated the scientist to work harder. It made him realize that he should proceed with an attempt to access another dimension. There was enough data collected from the subjects, he would only need about a week to get everything in order. He would make sure the Perseverant was present too; her magic would be useful in case anything went wrong. It was an immense risk, considering just how many problems could arise when tapping into an alternate reality, but looking at his hopeless king now, there was no better or faster option.

“Fine,” the Royal Scientist said, “I won’t mention it again.”

He turned to leave, walking towards the entrance to the Throne Room when Asgore said, “Gaster, you know it’s not a reliable option.” His eyes lowered to the ground, “They viciously attacked Asriel and that wasn’t even a century after the war. Can you imagine what they would do now? When monsters have become nothing more than legends? It would be suicide to go up there alone, or even with a group of monsters, the humans would kill us all before we could even begin searching for a Determination.”

Gaster nodded, his back still turned to the king, “And that is why I will never speak of the possibility again.”

*********** ***** *

The _plan was simple_ : access another dimension where the Barrier was already broken to retrieve the Determination human that caused it. He didn’t expect that… _creature_ to show up. In the moment, he was honestly more afraid than angry, especially as it easily broke his arm and threw him across the room. But afterwards, after Subject Two healed his arm and he returned to retrieve the Perseverant, he allowed his anger to arise.

They all knew his name now. They saw how _weak_ and _powerless_ he was as the creature had full control of the situation. How did it know him? What did it mean when it stated that he must still be linear?

He lightly scoffed to himself, prepared to silently take some of his anger out on the human when he opened the door to see the creature in the center of the room.

Instinctively, he froze, expecting the creature to turn towards him, but it didn’t. Instead it spoke to the Perseverant, telling her she was only surviving to face pain far worse in the future. The damn being acted as if it knew the life story of everyone it interacted with.

He waited a few moments after it disappeared, just to make sure it was truly gone this time. How long had it been in the room? Gaster finally walked through the entrance to find the human leaning against the wall, shaking as she stared at the exposed bones of her right arm. The sight surprised the scientist, not because it further revealed what the creature was capable of, but because it reminded him that he was more similar to humans than any other monster. The thought fueled his anger even more.

“Let’s go,” he snapped, ignoring the fact that she was beginning to hyperventilate. He waited for a few seconds, expecting her to notice him, but she didn’t. The human dropped to the floor, her breaths so fast that she was about to choke, no doubt her throat was closing.

Gaster sighed, realizing the only way to get her to calm down would be to shock her out of her current state. And what would shock her more than seeing her bones?

He roughly grabbed her shoulder, immediately noticing the jagged bumps of her scars. Gaster surprised himself when he felt a speck of fear that touching them would hurt her. If he wasn’t preoccupied, the thought would amuse him considering what he did to her nearly two weeks ago.

The girl’s purple eyes snapped up to his eye sockets, her gaze so intense he wanted to back away, but he knew it wasn’t enough to distract her from the pain.

“Krista!” he said, some of his anger biting into her name. “Just take a deep breath.”

That innocence once again returned to her eyes as she did what he said.

“Do it again,” he ordered, knowing, just like with any child, she needed to be told how to do it twice before relearning on her own.

She did what he ordered and he backed away, the ghostly feeling of her scars imprinted on his fingers.

“Now, stand up,” he said, less harsh than before.

She shakily pushed herself up to her feet and he nodded, glad he didn’t have to use blue magic to move her. He wasn’t sure how reliable his magic was anymore, especially after the encounter with the creature.

As they walked through the hallways he refused to help her, but every few steps he gave her time to recover from lightheadedness. When they reached her cell she obediently walked inside without a word, her eyes glued to the sight of her bones.

Gaster knew he couldn’t leave her like that, unless he wanted the displeasure of cutting off half her arm. So he took the more “humane” route and brought Subject Two to her without explanation. Two would figure out how to heal her eventually, it was a similar method to healing his brother except the structures that needed to be replicated and mended were different.

Two was more efficient than the scientist thought, as he had only just reached the camera room to see that the human’s arm was completely healed. Gaster couldn’t help but smirk as he turned around to travel back to the cell, feeling a slight sense of pride for the skeleton the creature had called his “son.”

************ *****

The scientist’s priorities had changed. He couldn't focus on his work anymore, all he could think about was the creature’s words, echoing in his skull.

 **“** **_Dr. Gaster, you have such a great interest in the future, but it has very little interest in you. Everything you’ve ever worked on or created… none of it needs you. None of it will remember you when you’re gone. So ask yourself, was it worth it?_ ** **”**

Did it mean that figuratively or literally? He feared that it was literal. It made him wonder if he was never meant to find an alternate solution to breaking the Barrier. What if the past few months truly had been for nothing? All the stress, anxiety, and secrets were just meaningless. What if the only way was to just come clean, reveal the subjects and the human, and admit that he had failed?

Gaster leaned against the railing of one of the Core bridges, weighing the benefits and detriments of ending the project. Alphys had once called it his “thinking spot,” a place he had always gone to when he needed to mentally analyze a difficult problem. He was beginning to spend more time there than in his lab.

He knew his resolve to continue was rapidly faltering, as he only spent about an hour a day to do simple tests on his subjects. He had stopped checking the cameras, and only cared to spend all of a few seconds with the human.

If he revealed his subjects to Asgore, he knew the king would take it upon himself to take care of them. He would most likely see them as innocent children in need of protection. But the human, the scientist wasn’t sure how the king would respond to her. He couldn’t imagine Asgore wishing to kill her; there would be no point to it. She wasn’t a Determination, and Gaster doubted she’d want to kill any monsters just because she only hated him.

Asgore had a soft spot for helpless, damaged children; Gaster doubted she’d die by the king’s trident.

The scientist was so lost in thought he didn’t even hear the elevator doors open to his right… or the tiny skeleton that approached him.

He only turned when he suddenly heard Alphys’ panicked voice asking, “Where is he?”

Gaster could only see her stumbling out of the elevator with the human and Subject Two, not noticing that One was running straight towards him.

Everything happened in an instant. One pushed him off the bridge. Two grabbed his brother and attempted to stop Gaster’s fall with blue magic, but the scientist had traumatized him too effectively.

He could only watch them as he fell, too panicked to think about the possibilities of what would come next. Alphys was screaming at the subjects, her shrieks reaching him despite the screeching wind. They didn’t even so much as turn around to look at him, but why would they after all he had done? And the human- Krista- just stared at him with an indifferent expression; she said something he couldn’t hear, but he knew her well enough to predict it was probably a deep-cutting insult.

Essentially, he had no one to blame but himself for this. There were too many ways he could have been better. Could have prevented this. Could have achieved his goal. So he allowed the guilt to finally overcome him, as he drowned in the darkness.

_________________________________________________________________________

 

“Welcome, Dr. Wingdings Gaster. Did you miss us?”

 

End Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading the first part to my story! I really appreciate the support! 
> 
> I'm going to take a break from posting for all of June and some of July (but don't worry, I'll be writing as much as possible!). And since I'm not too mean after chapter 39's cliffhanger ;), I'll be posting the first chapter of Part 2 next week before I go on break.
> 
> I hope to see you in the next part of Krista's journey in Part 2: The Stranger.


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